


Wildflowers

by blueberrynewt



Series: Experiments in Terra [1]
Category: Battlestar Galactica (1978), Galactica 1980
Genre: Coming Out, M/M, Multi, also cassie and sheba were def a thing but that's not really relevant, apollo and starbuck also bi as heck, bi dillon, bi troy, boomer is gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-15 19:33:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 37,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18505621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueberrynewt/pseuds/blueberrynewt
Summary: The Cylon threat has been eliminated. Troy, Dillon, and Jamie are at last enjoying the peace they fought so hard to find, but living on Earth comes with its own set of adventures. Lots of fluff, plenty of angst, and some actual plot.





	1. Iris

**Author's Note:**

> in which Troy loves puppies, Dillon is a puppy, and Jamie is better than everyone. CW for some homophobic and transphobic thinking.

_If you’ve been thinkin’ you’re all that you’ve got_

_Then don’t feel alone anymore_

_When we’re together, then you’ve got a lot_

_‘Cause I am the river and you are the shore._

— “Watching the River Run,” Loggins and Messina

 

“Afternoon, boys.”

Getting out of her own car, Jamie made her way to the other side of the garage, where two pairs of legs stuck out at odd angles from underneath a battered pickup truck.

“Hi, Jamie.” Dillon emerged first, wriggling out from under the vehicle and rising to his full height, before turning to give Troy a hand up. He brushed his hair out of his eyes with the back of one hand, leaving a dark smear across his cheek.

“Repairs coming along?”

“Slowly but surely,” Troy answered with a half-smile and a crinkle of his eyes. His face, too, was grimy and streaked with grease. “I have to say, I’m beginning to enjoy working on these machines of yours. Primitive as they are.”

“Yes,” Dillon agreed. “They’re so simple, it’s almost like a game to put them together.”

Jamie snorted. “Some game — you’ve been working on that engine for a week and a half now. You sure you don’t want to take it to a mechanic?”

“Come on now, Jamie, Troy and I grew up on spaceships. We can handle an internal combustion engine. Piece of cake.” Grinning, Dillon slung an arm around Jamie’s shoulders, and the pair of them headed inside. Troy stopped to put some tools back in their place, and to wipe his hands on a rag that was at least as dirty as his hands were, then followed them.

“What do you two want for dinner tonight?” Jamie asked, opening the refrigerator and surveying its contents.

“Oh, anything’s fine by me,” said Dillon. “I’m nearly hungry enough to eat field rations.”

“We’ll help you cook,” added Troy, taking a half step forward. Jamie turned and raised her eyebrows at him.

“You bet you will, if you want to eat anything at all. I’m not your mother, and I’m —”

“Not our maid,” the two men chorused with her, grinning. Jamie laughed.

“I guess I say that a lot, do I?” Looking between the Galacticans, she waved them away. “Well, you’d better get cleaned up first. I’m definitely not hungry enough to eat motor oil.”

“No, me neither,” Dillon agreed, examining his blackened hands as he and Troy turned toward the bathroom.

 

***

 

It had been over three years since the Galactican fleet had finally discovered Earth. After all the excitement of their first few months, Troy and Dillon had managed to glean important information from the dead Cylons that had been stranded on Earth, and Doctor Zee had put together a plan to break down the Cylons once and for all, without endangering Earth in the process. With their ancient enemies destroyed at last, the Galacticans were free to come to Earth and integrate into society, which they had managed mostly without incident thanks to Troy and Dillon’s hard-won expertise, as well as Jamie’s help. The children had all been reunited with their parents, and the Galacticans took up whatever trades they pleased, finally able to forget their enemies and live in peace.

Jamie, Troy, and Dillon had been living together for just over eleven months. They had never really talked about it, but decided on a whim to apply for a rental house Jamie saw in the newspaper, and they had yet to regret the decision. Dillon was working at as a bartender, where his friendly smile and open demeanor had made him an instant favorite, and Troy — ever ambitious — had recently started training to become a firefighter.

“Sometimes,” Troy had remarked, a few months previously, “I think this is the only life I’ve ever led. We went through so much on the _Galactica_ , endured so much fear and uncertainty, but living here, that life seems like a dream, or a story my father told me. Not my own life.”

“Yeah,” Dillon agreed. “I mean, Cylons? Spaceships? Distant star systems? It just doesn’t seem real.”

Jamie had topped off her glass of wine and raised it. “To a Cylon-free life,” she said, smiling.

“Cheers to that.” Three glasses clinked together, and the friends drank deeply.

 

***

 

Now, Jamie sat in the living room, grappling with a ball of yarn. She’d decided to teach herself to crochet, and had so far met with limited success. Sighing with frustration, she set the yarn down and leaned back against the side of the couch, glancing toward the kitchen door. She could see Troy’s and Dillon’s shadows moving on the far wall, and hear their voices above the rumble of traffic from outside.

“…think she might be right?” Troy was saying. “We have been working on that vehicle for a long time, and I’m not certain we’re any closer to solving the problem.”

“Hey, don’t lose faith, man.” Dillon’s voice was playful. “I mean, look at us. Commander Adama’s grandson, best pilot in the fleet, and his dashing sidekick? There’s nothing we can’t handle.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Troy said. “If anyone’s my sidekick, it’s Jamie. But I suppose we have faced greater challenges than primitive land vehicles with engine problems. If we can fight Cylons, we can fix a car.”

“Fight Cylons, pass off a dozen Galactican kids as Boy Scouts…” There was a crunch and a pause while Dillon chewed. “Not to mention facing the wrath of Adama himself on several occasions. Remember when he caught us brewing ambrosia under our bunks?”

“How could I forget that?” Troy sighed. “Or when we were kids, and Muffit got loose in the maintenance conduits? I thought I’d never hear the end of that one. My father and grandfather were both furious.”

Dillon laughed. “Oh, I remember that. It was my fault, too. Just wanted to do a little exploring. I never thought a robotic daggit could cause so much damage.”

“Muffit the Second was a very impressive daggit,” Troy agreed, and Jamie could hear the grin in his voice. “I sort of miss that old machine.”

There was a long pause, then Dillon spoke again. “Hey! You know what we should do? We should get a daggit! I mean a dog! Here!”

“You think?” Troy sounded hesitant, but excited. “We do have a good backyard. And I would love to have one around. Do you think Jamie would agree?”

Jamie opened her eyes as the two men emerged from the kitchen, and smiled up at them. “I think it’s a wonderful idea. A pet would really liven up this place. We had a dog when I was a little girl, but when I was living alone I never had the time or space to care for one.”

“Great!” Troy’s eyes had a boyish twinkle as he looked between Jamie and Dillon. “How do we procure one?”

“We should go to the pound this weekend,” Jamie suggested. “An animal rescue facility,” she explained when the Galacticans gave her blank looks. “We can adopt animals there that need homes, and it’s cheaper than buying one at a pet store. We can go on Saturday.”

“That sounds perfect.” Troy grinned wider than ever, then covered his mouth as he yawned. “I should get some sleep. Have to be up early tomorrow for class.” He turned, clapping Dillon on the shoulder as he stepped into the hall.

Dillon smiled at him and watched him go, then sighed and said, “I think I’ll turn in, too. Night, Jamie.”

“Night, Dillon.” Jamie waited until he had gone, then turned back to her yarn. “Guess this one has to go, too,” she muttered, and began unraveling her latest attempt, as she had the last eight. As she re-wound the ball of yarn, she paused and her gaze lingered on the spot where Troy and Dillon had been standing. Her mind kept going back to the two of them, the interactions between them, the way they looked at each other and unconsciously leaned toward one another. There was something there, she thought. If only they could see.

 

***

 

Saturday came, and the three friends set out to find themselves a dog. The truck was as nonfunctional as ever, so they rode in Jamie’s car, with Troy in the passenger seat and Dillon leaning forward from the middle of the backseat, so as not to be left out of the conversation. The roads were crowded and slow, and they had to park several blocks from their destination. As they walked away from the car, a surge of noise came from a nearby street, and Troy glanced around.

“What’s that?”

Making their way a block over, they found a street closed off to traffic, with people lined up on the sidewalks, many of them dressed in rainbows and other strange outfits. As they watched, a parade began to make its way down the street — several outlandish floats, large contingents of people on foot or on motorcycles, and several people on tall stilts. Almost all of them were dressed colorfully and provocatively, and they shouted, sang, and chanted as they passed by, joined by the people watching from the sidewalks, who waved rainbow flags and cheered.

Troy’s brow furrowed. “What is this? Some kind of festival?”

“It’s the pride march.” Jamie bit the inside of her cheek, unsure how to explain. “Gay pride.”

Dillon looked puzzled, and punched the term into his translator. The Galacticans had mostly become accustomed to Earth slang, but Dillon still wore his wrist device for occasions like this. His eyes widened as he read the definition that scrolled across the screen. “...Oh.” He held out his wrist to Troy, who nodded slowly.

“I had heard that such people exist on Earth,” he said, looking around at all the people. “Men who love men, women who love women. Even people born as one sex who choose to live as the other. But I’ve never seen…. There was no such thing in the Colonies.”

Jamie pursed her lips. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” she cautioned. “People may have had to hide who they were, but they doesn’t mean they didn’t exist. On Earth, secret subcultures and undergrounds have existed for as long as discrimination. I suspect the same was true of the Colonies.”

Dillon shook his head. “No way. This wouldn’t fly anywhere in the Colonies. We have traditions, customs, beliefs that everyone holds.”

“Dillon, do you actually remember the Colonies?” Jamie paused, though she knew the answer to her question. Dillon had been a very young child when the Cylons had destroyed the Colonies. “You don’t really know _what_ it was like there. Nor you, Troy. I mean, think about it — twelve planets, each the size of Earth. Over a hundred _billion_ people. Do you really think it was completely homogenous — that everyone thought and felt and believed exactly the same thing?”

Dillon crossed his arms. “The Colonies weren’t like Earth, though. We had a shared religion, a shared history, a common culture. We were united. We knew what was right.”

“What was right?” Jamie sighed. “Do you really have that much faith in traditions set down by people who lived thousands of years ago?”

“Let’s go,” interjected Troy, looking troubled. “Which way to the pound?”

 

***

 

The next evening, Sunday, Troy found himself wandering the streets, feeling unsettled. They had gone to the pound, and picked out a boisterous puppy just shy of a year old, already house-trained, who would grow into a dog big enough for Troy to throw his arms around. After that, the rest of his day had been spent playing with the new dog (as yet unnamed) in a whirl of laughter and chaos. But now, his mind kept going back to the march yesterday, and the things Jamie had said. He felt conflicted, for reasons he couldn’t understand. He knew the traditions and moral beliefs of the Colonies, which had been instilled in him from childhood; he had always adhered to them without question. But Earth had a way of confusing him, turning his assumptions back on themselves, and he couldn’t help wondering. There was something about that parade, that rebellious freedom of expression, something in the community and the possibilities he had glimpsed…

Troy shook himself and looked around. He was on a street that was unfamiliar to him, but he was confident he could find his way back. Dusk had fallen, and a bar across the street was beginning to fill up with colorfully dressed patrons.

Patrons dressed in rainbows, he realized. He watched for a few moments, thinking, then shrugged to himself. He was hungry, and there was money in his jacket pocket. _Might as well see if they have any decent food_ , he thought. There couldn’t be any harm in that.

They had burgers. Taking his basket, Troy turned around to look for a place to sit, but the room was packed and there were no empty tables. As he spun slowly, scanning in case he had missed something, he caught sight of a waving hand. He made eye contact with the woman who was waving him over, and when she smiled and beckoned, he made his way over to her table, where there was one empty seat on a bench next to a cheerful, rotund man with sequins on his hat.

“You looked a little lost out there,” said the woman who had waved Troy down. “You’re welcome to join us.”

Troy started in surprise at the sound of her voice. It was deep, like a man’s voice. Looking more closely, Troy could see that the woman had a strong jawline, a heavy brow, and large hands, and if she were standing, she would probably be as tall as him. If it hadn’t been for her long hair, jewelry, and dress, in fact, he would have taken her for a man.

She raised an eyebrow at his scrutiny, and her demeanor stiffened. “You got something to say, mister?”

“No. Sorry, I’m —” Troy glanced around the table. “I’m sorry. I’m not really used to…” He gestured broadly. “All of this.”

The sequined man gave him an understanding smile. “We were all new once. Just try not to stare. People come to places like these to relax and live their lives for once, not to get gawked at.”

The woman, seeming to relax, ushered Troy into the empty seat. “All right, baby gay. We’ll help you get your feet.”

“Oh, no, I’m — I’m not —” Troy stammered, glancing around again. “I mean, I’m just — I’m not —”

“You’re not what, kiddo?” She raised the eyebrow again. “You don’t seem very sure about it.”

Troy didn’t know how to answer that. “My name’s Troy,” he said at last, to break the silence.

The woman smiled broadly at him. “Pleasure to meet you, Troy. I’m Nessie, and this is Hector and Mel.” She pointed out the two other people at the table — Hector was the sequined man, and Mel, who hadn’t said anything, was at the opposite corner from Troy. He couldn’t tell at a glance whether Mel was a man or a woman, which confused him. Mel’s voice was clear and melodic, and he would have thought it a woman’s voice, but in manner and dress, Mel was entirely masculine. Troy dismissed the question for the time being, beginning to realize that he was in for a lot of confusion if he wanted to understand this community.

As he set into his burger, Nessie leaned back and surveyed him. After a while, she said, “Let me tell you what I think.” When he didn’t answer, except to look up and raise his eyebrows questioningly, she went on. “I think you were raised in ignorance. You didn’t have much exposure to gay people as a kid or young adult. I’d bet you come from somewhere rural, probably in the South or Midwest, but I could be wrong there. And I think you’re here, now, because you’ve started to question things. To question yourself. In fact —” she narrowed her eyes, then nodded. “In fact, I’m willing to bet you’ve got a crush. You’ve realized you’re in love with some guy, and in your desperate confusion you’ve done the only thing a baby gay can do when he starts to see the light at the end of the closet: you’ve come to a gay bar to see where you fit in.” She watched him chew for a few more seconds, then asked, “How much did I get right?”

Troy finished chewing. “Not bad,” he admitted. “Rural Wisconsin, actually. But I don’t have a — I mean, even if I’m questioning some traditions, that doesn’t mean I’m —”

Nessie rolled her eyes. “For crying out loud, Troy, you may be able to lie to yourself, but not to me.” She leaned forward across the table and fixed him with a stare. “My gaydar never fails, kiddo.”

“Your what?”

“ _Gaydar_ , Troy. Christ, you really are new to this. Gaydar is intuition, the sense that someone’s gay. It’s an important survival tool. And it’s been pinging like crazy ever since I set eyes on you.”

“Oh. Well, I, uh —” Troy looked down at what remained of his burger. He felt wildly out of his depth, more confused even than when he had first come to Earth and had to make his way through an entirely alien society. _At least then I had Dillon_ , he thought.

Dillon! Troy’s mind raced, his pulse sped up. Could it be? Could this woman — this strange, bold, blunt woman — be right? Unbidden, Troy’s thoughts turned to images of Dillon’s laughing face, memories of the time they had spent together. His hand closed on the edge of the table as he thought of the way Dillon’s hands felt, how it would be to hold hands with him and walk along a road, or a beach — to turn to face him in the gathering twilight — to lean forward —

“No!” Troy gasped, wrenching himself back to reality. “No, I’m not, I can’t — you don’t know me! It’s not true!” Panicking slightly, and aware of the eyes of other patrons who had turned to look at him, Troy slid out from the bench and lurched for the door. Outside, he began running, his breath coming in short gasps. “It’s not true,” he panted to himself, to the beat of his pounding footsteps. “Not true not true not true not true not true.”

Back in the bar, Nessie watched him go, then sighed. “Damn. Poor kid.”

“I remember those days.” Hector shuddered theatrically. “Can’t say I miss the closet.”

Mel reached across the table and took a fry from Troy’s abandoned plate. “Don’t worry, Ness. He’ll be back. He just needs some time.”

 

***

 

When Troy got home, Dillon was tying his shoes, about to depart for his shift tending bar. He came to his feet as the door opened and Troy came in, looking tense and tired.

“Where have you been? We expected you for dinner. Jamie was starting to get worried. There’s still some food if you’re hungry, but it’s cold by now, and you’ll miss our scintillating company.”

Troy smiled slightly. “I had dinner. Sorry for disappearing.”

“You had dinner out and didn’t invite me?” Dillon put on a mock-hurt voice. “Troy, you wound me.”

Dillon was confused to see Troy’s brow furrow at that, and heard the ill-disguised tension in his friend’s voice when Troy laughed and said, “I’ll remember to take you along next time.”

“See that you do, Captain.” With a grin, Dillon clapped Troy on the shoulder and left. He was puzzled by what had just transpired — on the surface, it was a fairly typical interaction for the two of them, but there was something about the way Troy was acting that baffled Dillon. Something in his eyes, in his voice. A sort of intensity that made Dillon nervous.

“Oh, well,” he muttered to himself as he walked to the bus stop on the corner. “Just one of his moods, that’s all.”

“What was that all about?” asked Jamie, coming to face Troy in the entryway. He shook his head wearily and turned away.

“Nothing. I’m going to bed.”

Frowning, Jamie followed him to the doorway of his bedroom. “Troy.”

“ _What_?” She was startled by his tone. He sighed. “It’s nothing, Jamie. I’m tired. Good night.” And he closed the door, leaving her alone in the hallway.

“Well, excuse you, _Captain_ ,” she said to the door. Whatever had just happened, she was sure, it wasn’t nothing.

 

***

 

Troy took a long time getting to sleep that night, tired as he was from rambling all over town. His mind felt like a whirlpool, the current too strong to resist, but not taking him anywhere useful. He kept seeing Nessie’s face, Dillon’s, the rainbow crowds; feeling that stirring of excitement, of hope, somewhere deep in his gut, then the crush of shame and horror. He floundered, trying to make sense of his situation but only finding more things to be confused about. When he tried to reassure himself that Colonial traditions were true and right, Jamie’s voice cut in to remind him how little he knew of humanity. When he tried to give in to the hope, lines from Colonial scripture intruded, telling him of the sanctity of man and woman, the holiness of childbirth, the divine union between the two sexes. Nothing made sense. If the Colonial beliefs were true, why did he see such joy and love in the pride parade and the strange, colorful bar? But the Colonial beliefs had held together an entire civilization for the thirty years they'd endured the wilderness of space. How could they be wrong?

Sighing, Troy got out of bed and went into the dark living room. The dog had been asleep in her bed when Troy got home, but she was awake now and bounded toward him, collar jingling. Troy squatted to fondle her head and let her lick his face, unable to keep himself from grinning. He moved to the couch and lay down, and the puppy jumped onto his chest and settled in happily, tail wagging as she continued to lick his chin.

“At least I don’t have to wonder about you, huh?” Troy mused, running his hands through the dog’s thick fur. _Dogs are easier to love. And I guess dogs love more easily, too._ With that thought, he dropped into sleep at last.

Dillon got home from work shortly after three in the morning, and came into the house as quietly as he could. Turning to tiptoe down the hall, he paused at the sound of slow, deep breathing from the living room. He peered inside, and soon made out Troy’s sleeping form on the couch, hands still resting on the puppy’s back. The dog’s head nestled in the hollow of Troy’s neck, and she rose and fell slightly with each breath he took. Smiling, Dillon slipped into the living room and covered the pair with a blanket. With a rush of tenderness, he unthinkingly lifted a hand as if to brush Troy’s hair back from his forehead, then hesitated.

 _What am I doing_? Shaking his head and turning away from Troy, he left the room.

 

***

 

Troy was momentarily confused when he woke up, unsure where he was. He glanced around and remembered coming to the living room the night before, and lying down with the dog. She was gone now, and he heard the rattle of her food from the kitchen as somebody filled her bowl. Troy sat up, rubbing his eyes, and noticed for the first time the blanket that covered him. He frowned. He was sure he hadn’t thought to get a blanket when he lay down here. He hadn’t been intending to spend the whole night here. And he was sure Jamie had already been asleep, which left —

 _Dillon_ , Troy realized, and all the anguish and confusion of the previous evening came surging back to him. He ran over all the arguments in his head, and found an answer there that hadn’t existed last night. Somehow, it was so clear now.

 _Okay, so I’m in love with Dillon_ , he told himself. _That’s...complicated. But I can’t keep lying to myself._ “To hell with tradition,” he muttered aloud.

At the sound of his voice, Jamie emerged from the kitchen and smiled. “Oh good, you’re up. I was going to wake you soon, you have to leave for school in twenty minutes.”

“What? Oh. Felgercarb!” Troy exclaimed, getting to his feet and tangling them in the blanket in his rush. Jamie laughed. She seemed happy, Troy thought.

“Don’t worry about it. I took the liberty of making you some eggs and toast. Just get dressed and fix your hair, it looks like a rat’s nest.”

Lifting a hand to feel his unruly hair, Troy extricated himself from the blanket and folded it before hurrying to his room. Emerging dressed and combed several minutes later, he returned to the kitchen and sat down opposite Jamie, who was scanning the morning paper as she sipped her coffee.

“Thanks for breakfast.”

“No problem.” Jamie examined him over the rim of her mug. “Troy, are you all right?”

“What? Yes. I’m fine.” Troy busied himself with his eggs. The puppy trotted over from her food bowl to whine at him for scraps and attention.

Jamie raised her eyebrows. “Okay then. Whatever you say.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She sighed and set down her mug. “It means I know you well enough to know when something’s bothering you. Now, if you don’t want to tell me about it, I’m not going to pry, but I wish you’d at least be honest with me. Maybe talking about it will help clear things up, anyway.”

“Hm.” Troy bit into a piece of toast, and watched Jamie thoughtfully. _Maybe I should tell her_ , he thought. _She might know what to do. And she knows how to keep a secret._ Aloud, he said. “All right. You’re leaving for work soon, right? Give me a ride to school and I’ll tell you about it on the way.”

 

***

 

In the car, Jamie nodded slowly and cast a quick glance at Troy. His expression was stiff, his jaw set. She knew it had been very hard for him to tell her.

“So. You’re in love with Dillon.” She drove another block, tapping the steering wheel, then asked, “What do you plan to do about it?”

“I —” Troy glanced around and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. What do you think I should do?”

“Well, the way I see it, in a situation like this you have two basic options.” A pickup truck cut her off at an intersection, and she swerved. “Hey! Frack you, asshole!” She looked at Troy again. “One, you can ignore your feelings and hope they go away. Or two, you can try to pursue a relationship with Dillon.”

Troy sighed and leaned his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I don’t think this will ever just go away. At least not without knowing how he feels. Now that I understand it, I have to resolve it one way or another.” He pounded his knee in frustration. “I wish I didn’t feel this way! If only I’d never seen that damn parade, I wouldn’t even have known. Now anything I do might ruin our friendship forever.”

“Do you really think that?” Jamie turned onto a side street and pulled alongside the curb.

Troy took a few seconds to answer. “No,” he admitted, “not really.”

Jamie nodded, and reached into the back seat for Troy’s bag, which she handed to him. “As for ignorance being bliss, I’m willing to bet this would have come up sooner or later. The way you feel — you couldn’t have gone on not noticing forever.”

“Well, I guess we’ll never know.” Troy paused with his hand on the door handle. “Thanks for talking, Jamie. I needed that.”

“Sure thing.” Jamie smiled, then leaned over and kissed Troy lightly on the cheek. “Have a good day at school.”

Troy nodded, smiled slightly, and left, shutting the car door behind him.

 

***

 

Dillon woke late.

He rolled onto his back and lay in bed for a minute or two, looking at the ceiling. He wasn’t sure how he felt. Something glimmered in the back of his mind, some warm feeling that frightened and enticed him at the same time. He shied away from thinking about that moment last night, when he had put the blanket on Troy and had felt, for a moment, like everything fit together. But the image of Troy’s sleeping face kept drifting in front of his eyes and filling him with a tenderness he’d never known or expected. He’d seen Troy sleeping thousands of times before, of course, back when they’d been bunkmates on the _Galactica_. But this had been different, for some reason. Why?

“Aargh,” Dillon grumbled aloud, and rolled out of bed.

He spent what little remained of the morning keeping company with the dog, eating and lazing and going through the newspaper, then washed a few dishes and went to the garage to work on the truck. Twice, he thought he had finally found the problem, only to be disappointed when the engine still failed to start.

“I’m beginning to think this truck has more broken parts than working ones,” he muttered, and went inside to wash his hands. The puppy whined at him from the couch, so he crossed the room to pet her. The blanket was folded and draped over the back of the couch, and Dillon paused as he looked at it, seeing again the image of Troy asleep, holding the dog against his chest. He shook himself and fondled the puppy’s ears.

“You wanna go for a walk, girl? Come on, let’s find your leash.” She followed him eagerly to the door, where he clipped the leash to her collar and pocketed the bundle of doggie bags. _Maybe some fresh air will clear my head_.

 

***

 

That evening, Troy found his way back to the bar where he had met Nessie — a place called Hamburger Mary’s. To his relief, she was there, seated at the same table with the same welcoming smile.

“Hi there, kiddo. Wasn’t sure when I’d be seeing you again. What’s on your mind?”

Troy sat across from her, next to Hector, and took a deep breath. It was still hard to admit how he felt. For that matter, it was still hard to believe he felt this way in the first place.

“You were right,” he said simply, after a moment. Nessie’s smile widened.

“Of course I was right,” she agreed. “Let me buy you a drink and you can tell us about him.”

Troy returned to the bar six times over the next two weeks. Sometimes Nessie was there, and they would talk; other times, he sat alone and watched the astonishing array of people who came in and out of the place, noting the ways they interacted, the relationships between them. The regular patrons soon became used to seeing him, and would wave or nod or call a greeting when he came inside. But he never sat down to talk with anyone except Nessie, Hector, and Mel. It seemed like going too far, admitting too freely that he was a part of this community. Somehow, he felt that by admitting that, he’d be passing a point from which he could not go back.

Several times, he asked Nessie for advice on how to deal with his problem. She would smile and pat his shoulder and say, “Nobody can do it for you, kiddo. Maybe he’ll say yes, maybe he won’t. Either way, you’ve got to find out. And between you and me — he’d be an idiot to turn you down, and you don’t strike me as someone who falls for idiots.”

Once, as they all stood up to leave, Mel — who Troy had learned used both ‘he’ and ‘she’ pronouns in equal measure — came to stand by Troy. She looked at him with clear, blue-green eyes, and nodded. “You’ve got this, Troy. You’ll be all right.”

 

***

 

A week later, Troy was up early, unable to go back to sleep. Jamie was awake, too, and the pair of them sat on his bed and talked as the sun rose, both holding mugs of coffee that wreathed their faces in steam.

“I have to _do_ something, Jamie,” Troy said after a lull in the conversation. “I can’t live with this secret for much longer.”

Jamie didn’t need to ask what secret he was talking about. “I know. I wish I could help you, Troy, but I’m afraid there’s just no easy way to go about this.”

He set down his mug on the side table and leaned back against the headboard, groaning. “Why did it have to be Dillon, of all people?”

Jamie had no answer for that, and Troy went on, “It would be easier if it was someone I didn’t know so well. It’s hard to forget you’re in love with someone when you see them every day. And when you have a lifetime’s worth of memories with them already.”

In the hallway outside Troy’s room, Dillon caught his breath and stood transfixed. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but he’d heard his name as he returned from the bathroom and automatically stopped to listen. He remained rooted to the spot as Troy continued.

“I just can’t get him out of my head! It’s infuriating. I thought I had more self-discipline.”

“Oh, come on, Troy,” Jamie admonished. “This isn’t about self-discipline! Nobody can help falling in love, and if you expect yourself to be the exception to that rule, it’s pure arrogance.”

Troy picked up his coffee again, took a sip, and stared into it for a long moment before answering. “I think I’m really, really in love with him, Jamie.”

“Oh, really? Do you think so?” Jamie snorted. “Well, that’s news to me. You’ve been hiding it _so_ well.” She rose, and held out a hand to Troy. “Come on, we’d better get breakfast going or we’ll both be late.”

Hastily and silently, Dillon backed away from the door and slipped into his own room, where he sat on the bed, breathing as hard as if he’d just run a mile. His mind whirled, echoing with Troy’s words. _It’s hard to forget you’re in love with someone when you see them every day.... I just can’t get him out of my head…. I think I’m really, really in love with him._

“Felgercarb, Troy,” Dillon muttered, lying back and running a hand over his face. “What am I supposed to do with that?”

 

***

 

That Saturday, while Jamie was out on a story, the two men obstinately went back to work on the truck. “I’ve got a good feeling about today,” said Dillon as they lowered themselves to the garage floor. “I think things are going to go right this time.”

“I hope you’re right,” Troy said. “If we don’t get this machine fixed up soon, we might have to admit that Jamie was right.”

“What, and take it to a mechanic?” Dillon scoffed. “Since when are you a quitter?”

Troy didn’t answer. They worked for nearly an hour before Troy said, “Hang on. I think I see — Start the car, will you, Dillon?”

“With you under it?” When Troy didn’t answer, Dillon shrugged. “Well, it’s your head. Just a minute.” Sliding out from under the truck, he found the keys and climbed into the driver’s seat.

“Ready?” called Troy. Dillion put the key in the ignition.

“Ready,” he confirmed.

“All right, go!”

Dillon turned the key. The engine revved, then caught. Dillon held his breath, waiting for something to go wrong. When it didn’t, he let out a whoop of triumph.

“It worked! You did it! Troy, I could kiss you right now!”

Troy, who had just emerged from under the truck, felt his breath catch and rose slowly to his feet, eyes fixed on his friend. Dillon seemed to realize what he’d said and grew flustered.

“I mean, you know. Figure of speech. I’m just happy the truck’s working, that’s — I don’t mean —”

“You can, you know.” Troy heard the words leave his mouth as if from a great distance.

“I — what?”

Troy steeled himself. _No going back now_ , he told himself. _Take the plunge._ “If you wanted to. You could kiss me right now. Or another time.”

Dillon struggled for words. “I, uh, I — I don’t know what —” He laughed nervously. “I mean, I’m —”

“Dillon.”

He stopped talking and looked at Troy, wide-eyed.

“Dillon,” Troy said again, and took a deep breath. “Can I? Kiss you, I mean. Would that be okay?”

“Um. Uh, yeah. Yeah. That would — that would be — good.”

The grin that spread across Troy’s face was so wide it made Dillon’s cheeks hurt just to look at, but he couldn’t help returning it. All at once, he felt the full force of his love for Troy, a feeling he’d been ignoring and stowing away for so long he actually swayed with the realization. “Oh, for God’s sake, Troy,” he said, and kissed him hard.

Several long minutes later, giggling like children, the two men went back into the house and washed up. Troy sat on the couch and Dillon lay down with his head in Troy’s lap. It was very comfortable, Dillon thought. _Pity we didn’t do this sooner._

Unable to stop smiling, Troy combed his finger’s through Dillon’s hair. It was softer than he’d expected. He grinned at the ceiling, then was overcome with another fit of giggles, which infected Dillon so that within a minute, both of them were curled up and gasping for breath, their arms around each other.

“This is ridiculous,” said Troy, when he had regained his breath.

Dillon bit his lip to hold back the laughter. “Totally unprofessional,” he agreed. The dog, waking up from her nap and hastening to join the pile, barked and jumped onto Dillon’s belly, and the giggles came back in full force.

Half an hour later, they had calmed down. Dillon’s eyes were closed, and he absently stroked the puppy’s ears with one hand while the other wrapped around Troy’s free hand. With his right hand, Troy continued to comb Dillon’s hair, and he leaned back and gazed out the window. He marveled at how easy this felt, how natural. As if they hadn’t just kissed for the first time less than an hour before, but had been together for years or decades. _It just_ fits, he thought. _I never realized how well it would fit_.

The dog grumbled, and Troy, coming back to the present, leaned down to brush his lips against Dillon’s forehead.

“Mm,” said Dillon, and guided Troy’s mouth to his own for another lingering kiss.

The front door opened, and Jamie came in. Instantly, Dillion started up, trying to put distance between himself and Troy, but Troy’s hand rested on his chest.

“Relax, Dillon. It’s okay. It’s just Jamie.”

Taking off her shoes, Jamie noticed them and paused, taking in the scene. Looking back and forth between Troy’s and Dillon’s grinning faces, she beamed and approached the back of the couch.

“So you figured it out, huh?” At Troy’s nod, she hugged him around the neck with one arm, reaching down with the other to squeeze Dillon’s arm. Then she stepped sideways and scooped the puppy up from Dillon’s belly, hugging the dog and spinning in a circle. “Oh, I’m so _happy_!”

“Hey,” protested Dillon. “She was keeping me warm!”

“Don’t be jealous, Dil. We girls have to stick together, now that the two of you are all cozy.”

Troy was looking at the dog, an idea tugging at his mind. It took him a moment to identify it.

“I know what to name her,” he said suddenly, understanding.

“You do?” Dillon sat up and swung his legs over Troy’s lap, eyeing the puppy. Troy’s left arm slid around his waist. “What?”

Troy’s eyes crinkled in a smile. “Iris. Goddess of the rainbow.”


	2. Dandelion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which Troy likes to sleep, Dillon likes to eat, and Jamie is the only real adult. CW for homophobic slurs, threats, and violence, as well as sexual harrassment.
> 
> also, big disclaimer for the whole fic but this chapter in particular: i was born in 1997 and have spent very little time in either LA or NYC. as such, my depictions of these cities in 1983 is on very shaky ground. i did my best to research stuff, but i probably got a lot wrong. forgive me.

_Two drifters, off to see the world_

_There’s such a lot of world to see_

_We’re after the same rainbow’s end_

_Waitin’ round the bend_

_My huckleberry friend_

_Moon River and me_

_—_ “Moon River,” Johnny Mercer

 

“What’s this movie called again?” Dillon asked, settling onto the couch next to Troy.

“ _The Wizard of Oz_ ,” Troy answered, examining the case. “Apparently it’s quite a classic.”

“That’s right.” Jamie made her way in from the kitchen, carrying a large bowl of popcorn. The scent of melted butter suffused the air around her. “Every kid in America knows this movie. When I was eight, I insisted on watching it every single week for months. My parents were very relieved when I moved on. Pass me the tape, Troy.” Setting down the popcorn on the coffee table and taking the movie from Troy, she slotted it into the VCR, then switched off the living room lamp before sitting on Troy’s left to watch.

“Good popcorn, Jamie,” Dillon said through a mouthful, while the opening credits rolled.

“Thanks,” Jamie replied absently, then glanced over to see that the level in the popcorn bowl had fallen alarmingly already. “Hey! Don’t be a hog, Dil, that popcorn’s for everybody.”

“But…” Dillon looked down at the bowl, reluctant to give it up. With a grin, Troy took the popcorn from him and handed it to Jamie, who took it appreciatively.

“Play nice,” Troy admonished Dillon, smiling, and kissed him on the cheek. Dillon rolled his eyes, but couldn’t pretend to be displeased.

Watching them, Jamie felt a surge of affection, and smiled as she took a handful of popcorn. _They’ve come so far_. She was distracted when Iris, now over a year old and unaware of her own size, leapt up onto the couch and made a bid for the popcorn, which Jamie had to hold above her head to keep it out of the dog’s reach. Laughing, Troy pulled Iris onto his own lap and rubbed her ears, trying to distract her.

“Settle down, girl. Come on, lie here.” Lifting the dog bodily, he set her down so that her back half was on Dillon’s lap, and her head rested on Troy’s left forearm. “That’s better. Calm down, now, the popcorn’s not for you.”

“Hey,” protested Dillon. “How come I always get her backside?”

“Because I’m her favorite,” Troy replied, straight-faced. “Good girl, Iris. Here.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a slightly crushed dog biscuit, and fed it to her.

“If you’re her favorite, it’s only because you spoil her rotten,” put in Jamie. Troy shrugged, unabashed.

“What can I say? Paternal instinct.”

“That, or a pathological need to please everyone,” Jamie responded. “Oh, be quiet, the movie’s starting.”

 

***

 

It was the first time Troy had been to Hamburger Mary’s since he and Dillon had become a couple. He hadn’t meant to stay away for so long, but his days had been so full, exploring this newfound relationship and training Iris on top of his full-time schooling. Besides, the thing that had driven him there in the first place had been his confusion and uncertainty about his feelings for Dillon, and with that problem happily resolved, he didn’t feel the need to go there so often. Still, he found himself missing the friends he had made there — Nessie’s brusque understanding, Hector’s jovial sallies, Mel’s quiet presence. So one evening he decided to go back, and to bring Dillon with him.

Dillon looked around with interest as he followed Troy through the door into the crowded, noisy interior, his eyes roving and a nervous smile playing around his mouth. Troy slipped his hand into Dillon’s and led him toward the bar. Hector, turning away from the counter with three drinks in his hands, spotted the pair and grinned broadly.

“Troy! Where’ve you been? If I’d known you were coming, I woulda ordered you something. Though I don’t think I could carry any more than this.”

Troy returned the smile. “That’s all right, Hector. We’ll join you in a minute. Two of whichever beer is your favorite, please,” he added, turning to the bartender. When they had their drinks, Dillon sipped his and nodded appreciatively.

“I like your taste in beer,” he said to the bartender, who grinned as he made change for Troy.

“Your boy knows his stuff,” the bartender said to Troy. “You should keep him around.”

Troy smiled. “I plan to.” With his glass in one hand and Dillon’s hand in the other, he turned and made his way to the usual table, where his friends, forewarned by Hector, were waiting expectantly.

“Hi, kiddo,” said Nessie, beckoning them over. “I was starting to wonder if I’d ever see you again. What have you been up to all this time?”

“I’m sorry,” Troy apologized. “I’ve been…busier than I anticipated. I —”

“Troy,” interrupted Dillon, leaning close to him. “Are you going to introduce me or not?”

“Right. Sorry.” Troy glanced around the table. “Dillon, this is Nessie, Mel, and Hector. Everyone, this is Dillon.” He took a deep breath and squeezed Dillon’s hand, his face creasing in a smile. “My boyfriend.”

The small group erupted in cheers and exclamations of delight. Nessie leapt to her feet and threw her arms around both of them, laughing. “You did it! Ha! Not that I ever doubted you, of course. Dillon, you don’t know _how_ happy I am to finally meet you!”

“I’m beginning to get a sense,” Dillon replied, making a show of massaging his ribs while he struggled not to spill his beer. Nessie laughed loudly again.

“Sorry,” she said, not sounding very sorry. “I get carried away when I’m excited. You’ll get used to it.”

Hector followed in Nessie’s wake, congratulating Troy and Dillon enthusiastically. Mel didn’t rise, but grinned at Troy and raised her mojito to him. When Troy took his usual seat next to Hector, Mel leaned across the table and squeezed his hand.

“I knew you’d be fine in the end. Well done, Troy.” Then he returned to his drink, watching the room with that keen, unwavering gaze.

The evening flew by, riotously happy. Troy was pleased to find that everyone loved Dillon, and he seemed to enjoy their company just as much as Troy did. _No surprise there_ , Troy thought. _I’ve rarely met anyone Dillon couldn’t make friends with_.

Nessie was in a celebratory mood and bought them all several rounds of drinks. After his third, Dillon started eyeing the dance floor with interest, and upon finishing his fourth, he set down his glass and tapped Troy on the arm.

“Hey. You wanna dance?” He jerked his head toward the throng of dancers.

Troy looked around, and cast an apprehensive glance in the same direction. “Dillon, I’m not sure —”

“Oh, go on,” urged Hector, nudging Troy, and Nessie nodded agreement.

“Relax, mister,” she told him. “Go dance with your boyfriend. We’re celebrating, remember?”

Troy grinned reluctantly and allowed Dillon to draw him out of his seat. “All right. But it’s your funeral,” he added to Dillon. “I really don’t know how to dance.”

Despite his misgivings, Troy found he enjoyed dancing this way, though he did tend to stumble and step on people. The seventh song that came on was a slow dance. Troy and Dillon, confused by the change of pace, glanced around and saw couples leaning into each other, pressing close and swaying back and forth in time to the music.

“Well, that looks simple enough,” commented Troy. “I think I can manage this one.”

“Yes,” agreed Dillon, “this one might be within your skill level. Come on.” Stepping forward, he wrapped his arms around Troy’s neck and rested his head on Troy’s shoulder. Troy, smiling, held Dillon around the waist, and together they rocked back and forth to the gentle rhythm of the music.

“I think I’m getting the hang of this,” remarked Troy after a moment.

“Troy?”

“Yes?”

“Shut up and dance.”

“Mm.” Smiling to himself, Troy held Dillon closer and closed his eyes, trying to absorb the moment. He felt suddenly overwhelmed — with affection for Dillon, with joy at having found his place at last, with an unfamiliar and pervasive sense of peace.

They danced in silence for a little while, then Troy said, “Dillon?”

“I thought I told you to shut up.”

“I love you.”

Troy felt Dillon catch his breath. There was a pause.

“I love you too, Troy.”

The tempo picked up again after that song, and it was more than an hour before they collapsed into chairs, sweating and out of breath. The other three had also taken to the dance floor — even Mel, who was usually so reserved — and their table had been occupied by another group, so they took the first empty seats they found. They sat for a moment in silence, catching their breath, then Troy took both of Dillon’s hands.

“Thanks for coming tonight,” he said. “And thanks for making me dance.”

Dillon grinned. “Anytime. Thanks for introducing me to your friends.”

“Your friends too, now,” said Mel, returning from the dance floor. Troy thought he looked more at ease than usual.

“In fact,” put in Hector, following Mel, “I think Dillon is our new favorite.” Troy and Dillon both laughed.

“Oh, you’ll get tired of him soon enough,” Troy replied, smiling fondly at Dillon and squeezing his hands.

Hector shrugged. “I wouldn’t count on it. We all like him so much, we might have to steal him away from you.”

“Not a chance,” said Dillon. Troy beamed at him, then yawned immensely.

“I’m exhausted,” he admitted. “You ready to head home?”

Dillon yawned too. “Hey! That’s contagious, you know. Yeah, let’s get outta here.”

“I’ll walk you out,” offered Nessie, who had just made her way over to the group. Troy and Dillon said their goodbyes to Mel and Hector, then made for the door. Outside, Nessie drew Troy aside and put a hand on his shoulder.

“I want you to know how happy I am for you two,” she said. “There’s nothing in the world that gives me more hope than seeing people find their way to love, even when society tells them it’s wrong. You’ve come a long way in the months since I met you — I’d hardly recognize that nervous young man who panicked at the mere idea that he wasn’t the straightest arrow in the whole damn quiver.” She looked at him for a moment, then leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. “I’m so proud of you, Troy.”

“Thank you, Nessie. That means a lot. I wouldn’t be with Dillon if it wasn’t for your advice.”

“Oh, you would have gotten there eventually. I just nudged you in the right direction. Now go on, your boyfriend’s waiting.”

With a nod and a final smile, Troy turned back to where Dillon stood waiting. He stopped to kiss him briefly, then took his hand.

“Let’s go home.”

 

***

 

“Hey Troy,” said Dillon, throwing the tennis ball as hard as he could and watching it arc away, with Iris in hot pursuit.

“Hm?”

“Remember New York?”

“How could I forget?” Troy leaned against a tree. “That was a close call. If those Cylons had managed to make that transmission, Earth would have been overrun.”

“Yeah, but I mean, remember _New York_? It was a great city. I wish we could’ve seen more of it.”

“We had to get back to LA to look after the kids. We left poor Jamie with kind of a lot on her plate.”

Dillon grinned ruefully. “Wasn’t very sporting of us, was it?” He stooped to retrieve the ball from Iris, who panted excitedly up at him as he drew his arm back for another throw. “Still, it would’ve been nice to explore the city.”

“You’re right,” Troy conceded. “It did seem very…exciting.”

“What are you boys talking about?” Jamie asked, returning from her car with the picnic lunch she’d packed that morning.

“New York,” they said in unison.

“We didn’t exactly get a chance to enjoy the sights last time we were there,” Troy explained.

“Oh. Right.” Jamie unrolled a picnic blanket, then looked up, brightening. “You should take a trip!”

“What, to New York?”

“Yes! You’ve got a week off school soon, don’t you? And Dillon, can you get the time off?”

Dillon looked delighted at the prospect. “Sure, I can trade shifts with someone and have a few days free. We should do it!”

Troy looked back and forth between the two of them. “But what about Iris? Who’d look after her?”

“Well, I would, of course,” said Jamie. Both men frowned at her.

“You mean you’re not coming?” asked Dillon. Jamie shook her head.

“I’ve got a lot of work these days, what with all my colleagues catching the flu. I can’t afford the time off. Besides, it’ll be nice for you two to take a trip together.”

Troy considered that, and smiled at Dillon, who was ferreting around in the picnic basket. “I guess it would be nice.”

Dillon, triumphant, pulled a box of crackers out of the basket and set to snacking. “I knew you’d come around,” he said, spraying cracker crumbs before him.

 

***

 

Three weeks later, on a Sunday evening, Troy and Dillon landed in New York City. Jamie had dropped them off at the airport that morning, and walked them to the gate, where she’d hugged them both goodbye and quizzed them in an undertone to make sure they remembered how they were supposed to behave on an airplane. “I don’t want a repeat of the last time you two went to New York,” she said. “Now, you just call me if you need anything, all right? Thank heavens you’ve learned how to use a payphone, at least.”

Troy grinned at her. “We’ll be fine, Jamie. Don’t worry.”

“Believe me,” Dillon added, “I don’t want to relive our last trip to New York any more than you do.”

Then their flight had been called and, kissing them both on the cheek, Jamie had bid them farewell and waved them off, smiling. “Fly safe,” she called after them.

“‘Fly safe’?” Dillon repeated nervously. “She makes it sound like there’s a chance we won’t.”

Troy had laughed, feeling at ease as he led the way to their seats. “Stop worrying so much,” he said. “We’re going to have a great trip.”

As Troy predicted, the flight had been uneventful, and they encountered no more difficulties than unappetizing airplane food and a dose of boredom. When they landed at JFK, the spring air was crisp, and they pulled their jackets tighter around themselves as they searched for a free taxi.

Traffic was heavy in the city, and it was another hour before they arrived at the hotel Jamie had recommended. Dillon spotted a Chinese restaurant across the street and set off to get takeout, while Troy reserved a room. Ten minutes later he returned, and Troy showed him to their room. Dillon looked around.

“Two beds?” he asked, frowning. They had been sharing a bed for over two months now, and he saw no reason why they should abandon the practice.

“A precaution. Jamie said if people notice two men sharing a room with only one bed, things might…go south.” He sat on one of the beds and half-smiled at Dillon. “We don’t have to use them both.”

“Well, good,” said Dillon, though he was troubled by Troy’s words. “I’ve gotten used to your warmth, I think I’d get cold if I had to sleep alone.”

“I’m glad to hear I make a good heater,” Troy replied, then gestured to the bag in Dillon’s hands. “What’d you get?”

Dillon looked down, a little sheepishly. “A little of everything,” he confessed. “It all sounded so good. We might be eating this for lunch tomorrow, too.”

“Good thing the room comes with a fridge.”

When they finished their meal (leaving plenty of leftovers), the sun had not quite set, and they opted to do a little exploring before settling in for the night. The streets were still bustling, brightly lit and thronged with people heading to work or home or friends’ houses or dates or anywhere else. The New Yorkers moved fast, heads down, occasionally jostling Dillon and Troy in their haste. The pair quickly learned to keep up with the crowd, and allowed themselves to be swept along by the constant flow of people, without caring too much which way they turned. As they walked, they nudged each other periodically to point out things they found beautiful or disturbing or amusing. Even after three years on Earth, there was so much they hadn’t seen of the way Earthlings lived, and much of New York was strange and fascinating to them. They wandered aimlessly, enjoying the sights and sounds of the city, until it was full dark and they started to yawn. Dillon looked around.

“I hope you know how to get back to our hotel,” he said.

“Don’t worry,” Troy replied, heading for a crosswalk. “Manhattan is laid out in a grid. All the streets are numbered. We shouldn’t have any trouble.”

Several minutes later, they were within a few blocks of the hotel. They found a narrow alley that made a good shortcut, and in the sudden quiet off the main roads, Dillon slid his hand into Troy’s and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. “Thanks for taking me to New York,” he said quietly.

Troy smiled at him, and was about to reply when a shout came from behind them.

“Get outta here, fags!”

The two men turned around and saw a group of younger men, probably college students, standing in the mouth of the alley and leering at them, clearly drunk. The one who had shouted had his thumbs hooked through his belt loops and a nasty expression on his face.

“Yeah, go on!” said the one next to him. “We don’t take kindly to perverts around here.”

Troy and Dillon exchanged a look, wondering whether to leave or take the belligerent youngsters to task. Dillon sighed. “I’m too tired to deal with this right now.”

“Me, too.” Troy looked at their harassers for a moment longer, then turned away with Dillon. “Let’s get back.”

“Hey you! Don’t turn your back on me,” cried the first shouter. “Not even man enough to stand up for yourselves?”

Dillon gritted his teeth, but didn’t take the bait. Troy set his jaw and strode forward, gaze fixed ahead.

The sound of footsteps arose behind them. Both men instinctively glanced over their shoulders, and saw the group of younger men coming toward them, laughing and brandishing beer bottles. Hastily, Troy and Dillon slipped into the flow of people on the next cross street, then ducked into a doorway and fished in their pockets. Pulling out the old wristwatches from the days when they had been the only Galacticans on Earth, they soon shimmered into invisibility, and stood still as the crowd of students emerged onto the street, looked around for their quarry, then shambled off in a different direction. Dillon and Troy reappeared once they were sure their pursuers was gone.

“I know we could have taken them,” said Dillon, looking after the young men. “But getting into a fight seemed like a bad way to end our first evening in New York.”

Troy sighed and nodded, leaning his head back against the wall. “I guess that’s what Jamie meant when she said things might get ugly. I’m glad we don’t get much of that in Los Angeles.”

“In Los Angeles, we’re both busy most of the time,” Dillon pointed out. “We mostly see each other at home, where there’s nobody to bother us. And if we’re out together, Jamie’s usually there too. It’s different.”

“Yeah.” Troy sighed again. “Well, let’s head back to the hotel. The adrenaline’s wearing off and I’m ready for bed.”

“Me, too,” agreed Dillon. “Lead on.”

Back at the hotel, they brushed their teeth — an Earth custom that had taken them some time to get used to, coming as they did from a place with much more advanced dental care technology — in a tense silence. Troy lay down in bed and looked at the ceiling.

Dillon sat down on the other side of the bed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m still jittery,” he confessed. “I don’t like being chased.”

“No, me neither,” said Troy. He lifted his head and looked over at Dillon. “Come here.”

Dillon shuffled his legs under the covers and rolled over toward Troy, propping his head on his elbow. Troy lifted one hand and ran it over Dillon’s arm, a crease between his eyes, then looked up to meet Dillon’s gaze.

“Let’s not let them bother us too much, hm? They don’t matter.” He placed a hand on the back of Dillon’s neck and leaned up to kiss him. “I’m really glad to be here with you, Dillon.”

Dillon relaxed a little, and smiled. “I’m glad too. Now, turn off that lamp and let’s settle the important question: little spoon or big spoon?”

 

***

 

In the morning, energized by a night of sleep and by the clear blue sky outside their window, Troy and Dillon all but forgot the events of the previous evening. They had three days in New York City ahead of them, and long lists of sights to see in that time. Eschewing the hotel’s complimentary breakfast, they ate at a nearby cafe, watching the people come and go and talking quietly across the table. They had decided to see all the most iconic New York City sights today — the Statue of Liberty, the Empire State Building, the Brooklyn Bridge, Times Square. The next day, Tuesday, was for the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Museum of Natural History, and Wednesday was left open for exploration, with the caveat that they wanted to spend some time in Central Park. On Thursday, they were to fly back to Los Angeles and return to their usual lives.

The first order of business was to figure out how to ride the subway. They were puzzled by the ticket machines at first, but figured them out before too long and managed to find the right line to ride to reach the Brooklyn Bridge. The subway station — dark, crowded with bellicose New Yorkers, and smelling strongly of sweat and urine — made Troy uneasy, and the train itself was no better. He and Dillon sat next to each other and tried to ignore the rattling and jostling, while avoiding the eyes of their fellow passengers. One white-haired woman fixed them with a hard glare, and they self-consciously shifted away from each other, stuffing their hands in their pockets and leaving several inches of space between them. All in all, they were glad when they emerged aboveground to breathe the comparatively fresh air of Brooklyn.

They forgot their discomfort when they set eyes on the Brooklyn Bridge, both pausing to admire it. “It reminds me of the Bridge of Helios on Sagittaron,” Troy remarked. Dillon frowned at him.

“The what? You never even set foot on Sagittaron.”

Troy raised an eyebrow. “No, but I _did_ pay attention in primary school. The Bridge of Helios used to span the Sun River, just outside of Carthage. It’s supposed to mark where King Solon first crossed the river on his way from Kelos. You’ve seen pictures.”

“If you say so.” Dillon crossed his arms and studied the bridge again. “It is very nice. Shall we?”

“I think we shall.”

The rest of the day passed in a flurry of new sights, sounds, and smells. After crossing the bridge back into Lower Manhattan, they headed for the Battery to catch a ferry to Liberty Island. Both were suitably impressed by the Statue of Liberty, which even Dillon recognized as being similar to certain ancient statues from the Colonies. It was due to be closed to the public the following year, as it was in need of repairs, and they were happy to have gotten a chance to climb to the statue’s crown.

When they got back to Manhattan, they were hungry, and lingered for a while in the restaurant they chose for lunch, both feeling happy, full, a little footsore, and rather torpid. When they finally left, it was mid-afternoon and the wind had picked up. Buttoning their coats, they made for the subway again, and found it wasn’t so bad once you knew what to expect. Soon, they were standing at the foot of the Empire State Building, gazing up toward the top of the skyscraper.

“You gotta admit,” said Dillon, “this is a pretty impressive accomplishment considering the state of Earth technology when it was built.” Troy agreed, and they went inside, taking the elevator to the very top of the building to enjoy the view. There, they looked out over the whole of New York City, marveling at the vast numbers of people all going about their lives down there, like cells in the great organism of the city. Having grown up on starships in the barren reaches of space, Troy and Dillon were still a little unused to the experience of being in a city, and the expansive view from the 102nd floor made them aware of just how big the place was. They stood there for a long while, talking only a little, each absorbed in his own thoughts and observations. Finally, they left, stopping at the gift shop to laugh at the tacky souvenirs and to buy a few.

“For Jamie,” Troy said, pocketing a miniature model of the Empire State Building.

“Right. For Jamie,” Dillon agreed, as he tucked away an “I Love New York” keychain.

They made their way to Times Square next, and got some ice cream to eat while they sat and absorbed the chaos of the place. Troy found it a little overwhelming, and when they had finished their ice cream they set off again, slightly dazed by the crowds and advertisements and the lights that were starting to come on in the early dusk.

They returned to their hotel and lay on their bed for a while, worn out. Troy dozed off and dreamed of a giant puppy who whined at him and nosed him in the head. Then he woke and realized it was Dillon, kissing him on the temple and saying, “Wake up, wake up, I’m hungry.” Troy laughed and wrapped his arms around Dillon’s waist, so that his boyfriend lay on top of him.

“So romantic,” he grinned, making no move to get up. Dillon continued to look at him pleadingly, and he finally relented. “All right, let’s go find dinner. Though how you can be hungry after the lunch you ate today, I don’t know.”

 

***

 

Tuesday was mostly uneventful. They found both of the museums fascinating, keen to learn more about the history, culture, and prehistory of Earth. The Earthlings didn’t know about the Thirteenth Tribe of Kobol, of course, and assumed humans had evolved natively on Earth. Troy wondered at the similarities between the evolution of life on Earth and on Kobol — none of the animals were exactly the same, but they shared too many common characteristics for it to be pure coincidence. He recalled Dillon using alpha-waves to calm a horse back in California, a technique that had been devised on the colonies to deal with their own surly livestock. _Curious that the same techniques works for animals from both worlds_ , he thought. _Maybe the gods made this world, and guided its evolution, just like they did for Kobol and the Twelve Colonies, even before humans reached this planet._

The art collections, too, drew his interest. He saw hints of ancient Kobolian art in many cultures, but most particularly in the art of Ancient Greece and Egypt. The Greeks, he knew, had worshipped the same gods as the Galacticans, and shared many of the same customs. The Egyptians, on the other hand, had created art and architecture very similar to those of Kobol. Even the scraps of the Egyptian language that Troy saw seemed vaguely familiar, though he couldn’t read them.

“Those civilizations must have been founded by particularly orthodox groups of colonists,” he hypothesized to Dillon as they left Ancient Greece and forged on into Rome. “Most groups seem to have formed new spiritual practices, developed new artistic traditions, when they reached Earth — the Chinese, the Toltecs, the Indus Valley peoples — but the Egyptians and Greeks each held onto some of the old ways.”

“Yeah.” Dillon spoke in an undertone to avoid being overheard by the other patrons. “Troy, do you think there could have been humans on Earth before the Thirteenth Colony arrived? I know it sounds unlikely,” he added, “but remember those early hominids from the Museum of Natural History? They seem to have evolved essentially to the point of modern humans before anything resembling Kobolian civilization appeared. What if the colonialists didn’t just settle on an uninhabited planet, the way our ancestors did on the Twelve Colonies, but actually interbred with a native population?”

Troy’s eyebrows knitted together as he considered the idea. “I suppose it’s possible. You’re right that the fossil record doesn’t seem to indicate any enormous jumps in human evolution, the way you’d expect if the Kobolians were the first humans on Earth.” He was silent for a few seconds, then went on, echoing his earlier thoughts, “It seems unlikely that humans would evolve so similarly on two different worlds that they would be able to breed, at least from a purely evolutionary perspective. But if the gods really did guide our creation, they may have done the same here.”

“Troy,” remarked Dillon, turning to look at him, “I do believe you’re getting religious.”

Troy shrugged. “It seems the only logical explanation.” He stopped to examine a detailed wooden carving, then beckoned Dillon forward. “Come on. The Renaissance awaits.”

 

***

 

They slept late the next day, enjoying the feeling of having no obligations, no definite plans to follow. Troy wrapped his arms around Dillon and kissed the back of his neck, murmuring something indecipherable before drifting back into sleep. Dillon smiled and closed his eyes for a while, but couldn’t go back to sleep. After looking dreamily out the window for a while, he grew restless and wriggled around to face Troy.

Troy woke slowly, to the feeling of Dillon’s fingers lightly tracing the outlines of his face. Without opening his eyes, he smiled and burrowed closer to Dillon, breathing deeply. Dillon tapped his face.

“Oh no you don’t. It’s ten-thirty and I want breakfast.”

“Is food your sole motivation in life?” Troy asked, not budging. “It’s so nice here, why would you want to leave?”

Dillon sighed and kissed Troy on the forehead. “It is nice, but so are waffles, and we can’t stay in bed forever.”

“Why not?”

“Cause I have to pee.”

Troy snorted and rolled over, releasing Dillon. “Okay, fine, I accept that excuse.” He paused. “Hey, what’s that called where the hotel delivers food to your room? Room dining. Room delivery. Meal service. Room service! That’s it. Let’s order room service.”

About to enter the bathroom, Dillon grinned back at him. “If there’s breakfast, I’m happy.”

“And if there’s staying in bed, I’m happy,” replied Troy. “So breakfast in bed is the perfect solution.”

They didn’t leave the hotel room until one in the afternoon. They spent the next couple of hours just walking around Manhattan, stopping to investigate whatever shops caught their attention, and consequently ending up with several bulging bags of things they didn’t really need, but liked. Eventually, despite their late breakfast, they decided it was time for lunch. They got sandwiches and lemonade from a deli, and took their food to Central Park, where they found a place to sit on the grass, surrounded by trees that muffled the ever-present noise of traffic.

When they had eaten, they lay back on the grass and watched clouds drift across the sky. They were quiet for a while, relaxed and peaceful. At length, Troy said, “I miss Jamie.”

Dillon lifted his head to glance at Troy, then lay back down and nodded. “I know what you mean. Not that I don’t enjoy spending time with you, of course, it’s just…”

“Not the same without her,” Troy finished. “I guess we’ve gotten used to having her around all the time.”

“It’s too bad she couldn’t come with us.”

Troy paused, then said, “I miss Iris, too.”

Dillon smiled. “You sure love that dog.”

“I do. I’m glad you thought of getting a dog.”

They lapsed into silence again. At length, feeling content and drowsy, Dillon rolled onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow. Resting a hand on Troy’s chest, he said, “Hey.”

“Hmm,” murmured Troy, not opening his eyes.

Dillon’s hand moved up to brush Troy’s chin. “I love you, you know.”

Troy’s smile widened. “I —”

He was cut off by a yell from a nearby path. “Look there!”

Then another voice: “Hey Vic, looks like we got ourselves a coupla homos. Whaddya say we go teach ‘em a lesson?”

Scrambling to their feet, instantly alert, Troy and Dillon made out a trio of burly men heading toward them, looking determined. Troy took a deep breath and clenched his fists.

“I’m tired of running and hiding,” he said. “What do you think?”

“Let’s take them,” Dillon agreed, wiping suddenly sweaty hands on his pants. “Some drunk kids chasing us down an alley at night is one thing, but these guys coming at us in broad daylight, in the park? That makes me mad.”

Side by side, they strode forward to meet the three men, who sneered openly. “Ooh, these two think they can fight back,” remarked the one on the right. The others laughed.

“Guess they don’t know who they’re dealing with,” replied the one in the middle.

Dillon bridled. “Pardon me,” he called out, “I couldn’t help overhearing, and I think it’s only fair to mention that we’re both trained warriors, and possess highly superior strength to your own.” In fact, three years spent living in Earth’s gravity had led to a steep decline in both bone density and muscle strength, for them and all the Galacticans. But these three didn’t need to know that, and Troy and Dillon were still stronger than all but the most highly trained Earthlings.

The man coming up on their left scoffed. “Warriors, eh? Warriors of what, the Rainbow Brigade? The Faggots’ Army?”

The center man stopped a few paces short of Troy and Dillon, who also halted. He surveyed them for a moment, then, with a vicious grin, said, “Get ‘em, boys.”

The fight lasted for several long minutes. One-on-one, Troy or Dillon could have dispatched any of their assailants in less than a minute, but they were outnumbered and it took them longer to gain a definitive upper hand. Eventually, Dillon knocked one of them unconscious with an elbow to the head, and the other two, fairly battered themselves, hoisted their comrade between them and fled as fast as they could, burdened as they were. Troy and Dillon turned away, both nursing injuries of their own: Dillon had a bloody nose and a black eye, and Troy’s ribs were bruised where one man had actually headbutted him against a tree. The altercation had robbed the afternoon of its tranquility, and they returned to their hotel with heavy footsteps, Dillon stemming the flow of blood from his nose with a shirtsleeve. The receptionist at the hotel’s front desk looked alarmed at their scuffed and bruised appearance, and seemed about to say something, but they walked past her and found the sanctuary of their room, closing the door behind them with a profound sense of relief. They cleaned up in the bathroom, Troy taking off his shirt to prod disconsolately at his ribs, while Dillon washed blood off his face and examined his black eye in the mirror.

“That jerk was trying to make me less pretty,” he announced after a minute. Troy laughed, a little hollowly.

“He failed, then.”

They lay down on the bed but didn’t sleep. They didn’t talk either, each grappling with a slew of emotions about what had just befallen them. After a long while, Troy said, “Superb ending to our stay in New York.”

“Yeah.” Dillon was silent for another minute or two. “Do you think we shouldn’t have fought them?”

Troy shrugged. “I’m not sure. I don’t like running away from bullies. But I don’t like having bruised ribs, either.”

“Yeah,” said Dillon again, and silence fell over them again.

After a time, Troy reached for the remote and switched on the hotel television set. He didn’t recognize any of the shows that were on, but he didn’t really care — he had just been getting sick of the miserable silence, and wanted something else to occupy his mind. Of course, he and Dillon both wound up being quite invested in the characters’ plights, and groaned in unison when the episode ended on a cliffhanger. They left the TV on and watched the first few minutes of the next show, but then Dillon took the remote from Troy and turned it off. Troy didn’t complain.

“You know what I want?” asked Dillon, turning his head on its side. A slight smile quirked the side of Troy’s mouth.

“Let me guess. Dinner?”

“Bingo,” confirmed Dillon. “Hole-in-one. Home run. Touchdown. All the sports terms I don’t understand.”

Troy laughed. “Okay, okay. Where do you want to eat? Or should we get room service again?”

“Nah,” said Dillon. “I’m getting tired of sitting in this room feeling glum. Let’s go to a restaurant. Italian?”

“Italian sounds perfect,” Troy admitted.

They revived somewhat over their thin-crusted New York pizza, which they both admitted was better than any pizza they’d had in Los Angeles. When he was on his last slice, Dillon said, “Hey. You know what?”

“What?”

“Let’s not let that fight in the park be the last thing we do in New York. Let’s go out this evening, have some fun. End on a good note.”

“That sounds nice,” Troy admitted, “but right now being out in public feels like making a target of ourselves. Everyone’s a potential enemy, you know?”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Dillon chewed a bite of pizza. Then his eyes lit up and he leaned in, speaking quietly so that no one could overhear. “Hey, there must be a gay scene in New York. I don’t know where, but this city’s bigger than L.A., it’s gotta be somewhere.”

Troy considered the idea. “How do you propose we find it? We don’t know anyone here.”

Dillon leaned back, momentarily stymied.

Then Troy’s expression cleared. “Hang on, I think I know how to find it. Nessie and Hector once gave me a crash course in gay history, and they told me about a club in New York. There was an incident there ten or fifteen years ago, an altercation with law enforcement, which is regarded as one of the turning points in the gay rights movement. I think it was called the Stonewall.” He frowned again. “Though I’m not sure how that will help up find it. We can’t ask anyone, or we risk another attack.”

A grin spread over Dillon’s face. “Phone books!” he exclaimed. Understanding, Troy nodded.

“Of course! Good thinking. There’s one in the hotel room we can use.”

Twenty minutes later, Troy ran a finger down the listings in the phonebook. He stopped and jabbed at the page. “There! The Stonewall Inn. Fifty-three Christopher Street. I bet that whole area is a gay district these days.”

Dillon pulled a subway map out of his jacket pocket and scanned it. “Here. This route stops at Christopher Street.”

“Great.” Troy came to his feet, stowing the phone book and picking up his coat. “Shall we?”

A little while and one uncomfortable subway ride later, they emerged from the Christopher Street subway station and looked around.

“Do you remember the address?” Dillon asked.

“No,” Troy admitted. “I also don’t know which street is which. But that’s fine. I’m sure there are a lot of gay bars in the area, we can just walk until we find one.”

“Right.”

They picked a direction and walked for a block, then turned right on a whim and walked another block. Across the street, they spotted a building lit up and caught the sound of music and loud laughter as someone went through the door. Troy looked over at Dillon and gestured. “What do you think?”

They crossed the street and peered through the windows. Dillon grinned. “These people look like they know how to have fun,” he said. “Let’s do it.”

As they went through the door, Troy leaned back to read the sign. “Julius,” he mused. “Wasn’t he that emperor who got stabbed?”

Inside, it was dim and noisy. Troy stopped to skim some old newspaper clippings on the wall, which told of famous patrons from the bar’s past. He felt someone come up behind him and turned to see a tall, well-muscled man with a carefully groomed mustache, who stood too close to Troy and whose breath smelled of too many drinks.

“Oldest gay bar in the city,” he told Troy. His words were slightly slurred. “You new here? I can, uh, show you around, if you know what I mean.” Troy felt a hand clumsily reach for his backside, and jerked away.

“I’ll be fine,” he said curtly, and hurried to follow Dillon, who was standing at the bar. He looked around as Troy joined him.

“There you are. Thought I’d lost you.”

Troy smiled wanly, trying to hide his discomfort. “Well, I’m here. What are you getting?”

They ordered their drinks and sat for a while. They had to shout to hear each other over the music and conversation, so they mostly stayed quiet. Troy didn’t see the mustached man again, and tried to forget about the incident and enjoy the evening. Eventually, they got up to dance, and Troy finally began to relax a little. After a few songs, wiping sweat off his forehead, he tapped Dillon on the arm and indicated that he was going to use the bathroom. Dillon nodded.

Leaving the restroom a shortly afterwards, Troy pulled up short when he found himself suddenly face-to-face with the mustached man from earlier. Troy was tall, but the other man nevertheless stood at least two inches taller, and loomed over Troy.

“Come on now,” said the man. “Don’t be shy.” He leered unpleasantly and tried to take Troy by the arm. “Just come on back with me and we can have some fun, you and I.”

Troy pulled away. “I have a boyfriend.”

“That twink you came in with? Yeah, he’s pretty. Tell you what, he can join us if you want.”

“ _No_.” Troy shoved the other man’s hand away and pushed past him, back to the dance floor. It took him only a minute to locate Dillon among the crowd, but to Troy it felt much longer.

At last, he spotted him and made his way over. “Come on,” he said in Dillon’s ear. “Let’s get out of here.”

“What? Why?” Dillon looked confused, but heard the urgency in Troy’s voice and followed him outside. Troy walked for more than a block without looking back, and Dillon had to hurry to keep pace.

“What happened?” Dillon asked when Troy finally stopped and leaned back against a brick wall, breathing hard. “Are you okay?”

In halting sentences, Troy explained what had happened. Dillon listened quietly, except for the occasional expletive, and sighed deeply when Troy was finished.

“Felgercarb. I’m so sorry, Troy. I shouldn’t have made you come out tonight.”

Troy shook his head. “It’s not your fault. It was a good idea.”

Dillon sighed again. “I hate to say it,” he said, “but I almost think this trip turned out worse than our last New York vacation.”

Troy grimaced and set off down the sidewalk. “Well, back then, the only thing we were hiding was that we were aliens from another world, on a mission to track down a pair of genocidal robots. Funny how that was an easier secret to deal with.”

“Oh, it’s not that surprising,” Dillon replied with a touch of bitterness, as he led the way across a street. “After all, no one believes in aliens.”

 

***

 

All told, they were glad to leave New York City. At the airport, they bought coffee and pastries for breakfast.

“You know,” Troy commented, studying his cinnamon roll. “Yesterday got bad, but this trip didn’t entirely suck. We had some good times.”

Dillon nodded. “You’re right.” He paused and chewed a bite of his scone. “I think I’m still glad we did this, even after everything.”

“Yeah.” Troy swirled his coffee and was quiet.

Six hours later, they walked out of the gate in Los Angeles to find Jamie waiting for them and beaming. “You made it!” she exclaimed, holding out her hands to both of them.

“Did you doubt we would?” Dillon asked, smiling. Troy stepped in to hug Jamie, taking a deep breath and feeling more relaxed than he had since the previous afternoon. “We missed you,” he told her, hoping she could sense his sincerity. He hadn’t realized just how much he had missed her until she was there.

“I missed you guys, too,” Jamie said with a smile, and she let go of Troy and turned to Dillon. Abandoning decorum, Dillon picked Jamie up around the waist and swung her in a circle. She shrieked with surprise, then laughed as Dillon set her down.

“Oh, it’s so good to see you both,” she said. “Come on out to the car, Iris is waiting for us.”

Troy’s face lit up and he lengthened his stride. Jamie and Dillon exchanged a glance and grinned.

“I think he missed her more than he missed me,” Jamie remarked. Dillon shook his head.

“I think he missed you both equally,” he said. “For what it’s worth, I missed you more than the dog.”

Jamie raised her eyebrows. “Don’t let Iris hear you say that.”

 

***

 

That evening, the three of them — four, counting Iris — lounged on the couch, sipping hot cocoa that Jamie had spiked with bourbon. Troy had gotten a fire going in the hearth, and they all stared into the flames, mesmerized. Taking a drink and then setting his mug down on the coffee table, Troy yawned and leaned his head on Dillon’s shoulder.

“Long few days,” Dillon remarked, ruffling the back of Troy’s hair.

“Mm,” Troy agreed. “I’m glad to be home.” Reaching across Dillon, he took Jamie’s hand. “Thanks for being here, James.”

“Of course.” Jamie looked at them both. “I’m sorry your vacation didn’t go so smoothly. I wish there was something I could do.”

Troy gave a wan smile. “It’s not your fault. Besides, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right? We’re not dead yet.”


	3. Lupine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which we make new friends, and i actually try to write some plot. bear with me, i usually stick to fluff and angst. CW for homophobia.

_Oh, my friends_

_I am heavy_

_Can I beat within your heart?_

_Can I bleed within your love?_

_Oh, my friends_

— “My Friends,” Oh Wonder

 

Troy was on a break at school when his old wristwatch beeped. He dug it out of his backpack and frowned. He and Dillon continued to carry the devices so Adama could contact them in emergencies, but it had been over a year since he had received any transmissions. Ducking behind a building out of sight of his fellow cadets, he put the machine close to his mouth.

“Troy here.”

“Good to hear your voice, Boxey.” It was Adama. Troy smiled at the childhood nickname.

“What’s going on?”

“You’d better come and see me. This will be easier to explain in person. Bring Dillon.”

Troy frowned. “Okay. Well, I’ll be done with school in about two hours —”

“Forget school,” Adama interrupted. “This is important. Come as soon as you can.”

Troy sighed. “Understood.” Strapping the device to his wrist and covering it with a sleeve, Troy made for the nearest payphone and called the house. He reached the answering machine.

“Dillon? Are you there? Dillon, come on, pick up the phone. I’m going to keep talking until you answer. Dillon. Dillon. Hello?”

Dillon’s voice, tinny over the phone line, finally cut in. “Hey, sorry. I was outside playing with Iris. What’s up, babe?”

“I just heard — did you just call me ‘babe’?”

He could imagine Dillon’s cheerful shrug. “Thought I’d try it out. Do you think ‘honey’ is better? Sweetie-pie? Darling? Sweet-cheeks?”

“How about ‘Troy’?” Troy suggested, smiling despite himself. “Anyway, listen. I just heard from Commander Adama. He wants us to meet him as soon as possible, says it’s important. Will you grab our gear and come pick me up?”

Dillon’s voice grew serious. “Of course. I’ll be there soon. He didn’t tell you what this is about?”

“No. I have to go make excuses to the Drillmaster. Meet me at the front entrance.”

“Right. See you soon.” They hung up, then Troy went to find the academy’s Drillmaster. He told the man only that his grandfather had called and there was a family emergency, which was all essentially true, and the Drillmaster nodded curtly and let him leave. Dillon picked him up a little while later, and they drove out to the edge of the city, where Adama still lived in the _Galactica_. Doctor Zee had devised a way of disguising the ships, so that from the outside, the _Galactica_ appeared to be a large complex of elegant houses set against a low range of hills.

On the inside, though, it was still a Battlestar. Troy and Dillon knocked on the door, which opened automatically for them, and stepped through. Immediately, they both staggered under the ship’s artificial gravity.

“Captain Troy, Lieutenant Dillon,” said Adama, entering the hall where they stood straining to keep their feet. He looked at them, puzzled. “Are you ill?”

Dillon gestured helplessly. “The gravity,” he gasped. Adama’s face cleared.

“Of course. I’m sorry.” He went to a wall panel and pressed the button. “Adama to Bridge. Boomer, turn the gravity down to Earth normal.”

A moment later, the pressure let up, and Troy and Dillon straightened, catching their breath. Adama clasped his hands behind his back and surveyed them.

“Thank you for coming,” he said. “I’m sorry to call you out here on such short notice, but I’m afraid this is too important to wait. Follow me.”

He was leading them to Doctor Zee’s chamber, Troy realized, looking around the ship that had been his home for so many years. The boy genius, finding it impossible to blend into Earth society, had elected to remain on board the ship, along with Adama, Boomer, and a rotating crew of mechanics and security officers, just in case.

When they reached the chamber, Doctor Zee wasn’t there. Adama frowned. “Where is he? You two wait here, I’ll find him.” And he swept out of the chamber, leaving Troy and Dillon alone.

Dillon stuck his hands in the back pockets of his genes and looked around. “It sure is weird being back. I’d almost forgotten what it looked like.”

“Yeah.” Troy was quiet for a moment. “A lot of memories on this ship.”

“A lot of bad memories,” Dillon remarked.

“Some good ones, too.” Troy smiled and took Dillon’s face in his hands, kissing him first on the forehead, then on the mouth. _If only we hadn’t wasted so much of that time ignoring our feelings_.

“ _What is the meaning of this_?”

Troy and Dillon broke apart, turning to see Adama framed in the doorway, with Doctor Zee standing behind him. Adama looked pale and furious.

Troy’s stomach clenched. “I —”

“Lieutenant, you’re dismissed. Doctor Zee, please leave us.”

Dillon hesitated, moving his hand slightly as if to take Troy’s but thinking better of it. “Troy —”

Troy set his jaw. “It’s okay, Dillon. Go on. I’ll meet you outside.”

“Right.” Dillon turned and left, casting a long glance behind him. Doctor Zee had already left.

When they were alone, Adama strode forward to stand right in front of Troy. The expression on his face was ugly, and Troy almost quailed under his grandfather’s livid glare.

“Explain yourself, _Captain_ ,” Adama spat. Troy forced himself not to flinch at the venom in the older man’s voice.

“Grandfather, I —”

“Don’t ‘Grandfather’ me,” Adama snapped. “Never mind, I don’t want to hear your excuses. Frankly, I’m _astounded_ that you dared to bring this... _perversion_ onto my ship. I thought better of you, Troy.” Pacing away from Troy, he leaned on the back of a chair, looking suddenly quite old. “The folly of age. I suppose I should have expected this.”

Troy blinked. “Expected —? What do you mean?”

Adama straightened, and his face was hard again. “No matter. There wasn’t much I could do about Apollo; we needed every capable warrior to protect ourselves from the Cylons. But the Cylons are gone, and I can find someone else to carry out this mission. You’re relieved of duty.”

“ _Apollo_?” Troy repeated, staring. “What does my father have to do with this?”

“I said you are _relieved of duty_ , Captain,” Adama repeated, ignoring Troy’s question. “And stripped of rank, for that matter. The same goes for Dillon. Now, get off my ship before I have you removed.”

Troy stared. His heart hammered in his chest, and he found it difficult to breathe. _This can’t be happening_ , he told himself. _This is my grandfather. The man who led us to Earth. He can’t do this to me now_.

“OUT!” Adama bellowed. Troy, galvanized by the sudden shout, turned on his heel and walked back through the ship in a daze, hardly noticing where he went as his feet carried him down the familiar corridors. Along the way he crossed paths with Boomer, who smiled and greeted him warmly. Troy barely glanced at the Colonel, and Boomer frowned after him, confused.

Outside, Troy staggered into the street and stopped, unsure where to go next. A car swerved to avoid him and honked, but Troy only half-registered the noise. A moment later, he felt Dillon’s hand on his shoulder, gently guiding him to the curb and helping him sit. Dillon sat beside him and watched him with concern.

“What happened?” he asked after a while.

His voice cleared away some of the panicky haze that filled Troy’s mind. Troy seized Dillon’s hand and held it tight to steady himself, forcing himself to breathe more slowly. When he found his voice, he said hollowly, “We’ve been relieved of duty and stripped of rank.”

“But —” Dillon looked aghast. “He can’t do that! What about the mission?”

“He said he’ll find someone else.” Troy met Dillon’s gaze. “He made it very clear that he wants nothing to do with…people like us.”

“ _People like us_?” Dillon repeated, incredulous. “He’s your _grandfather_! He can’t just —”

“He can, and he did.” Troy dropped his gaze and stared at the asphalt for a few seconds. “This happens to people on Earth all the time. Mel, Nessie, Hector — they’ve all had family members reject them for being who they are. The only member of Hector’s family who even speaks to him anymore is his twin sister.”

“Yes, but —” Dillon persisted. “I mean, Adama’s not like that — he wouldn’t —”

“He is like that,” Troy said, his voice tinged with venom. “We just didn’t know it until now.”

Dillon sighed tiredly. “Let’s go home.”

At home, Troy lay on the couch with his head in Dillon’s lap. They didn’t talk, as neither one felt able to offer any kind of comfort or clarity, other than just being there. Troy held Dillon’s hand tight, and after a long time, dropped into a fitful sleep.

Jamie came home then, and smiled to see the two of them. The smile faded when Dillon met her gaze and she saw his grim expression. She approached them, frowning, and asked, “What happened?”

Speaking quietly to avoid disturbing Troy, Dillon explained the situation. When he had finished, Jamie had a hand over her mouth and tears in her eyes.

“Oh, Lord,” she breathed. “I’m so sorry — I — I don’t know what to say. That was a terrible thing for Adama to do, I can’t imagine how you must feel.” She paused, unsure how to continue, then said, “I’ll make dinner.”

Troy woke a little while later and went into the kitchen. Jamie, looking up, covered the pot she had been stirring and went to him.

“Oh, Troy,” she said sadly, and wrapped her arms around him. He hugged her back and closed his eyes tightly, trying to let the warm pressure of her arms anchor him. He breathed in deeply through his nose.

“You’re wonderful, Jamie,” he said. “I hope you know that.”

She smiled wanly into his chest. “So are you,” she replied quietly. “Don’t you ever forget it.” Pulling back, she stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, then turned back to her cooking. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

“Good,” said Dillon, coming up behind Troy. “It smells amazing, James. Thanks for feeding us.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get too used to it.” She bent to get a pan out of the oven. “Emergency situations only.”

Dillon put a hand on Troy’s back as they followed Jamie to the table. “You okay?”

Troy shrugged and forced a smile. “I’ll be fine.”

 

***

 

On the _Galactica_ , Boomer looked after Troy, bewildered by the younger man’s rudeness. He viewed Troy as an honorary nephew, and the two had always been on the best of terms. He thought about going after Troy, but then turned his steps in the opposite direction.

When he found Adama, Boomer raised his eyebrows questioningly. “Commander, did something happen with Captain Troy?”

“He’s no Captain,” Adama said stiffly. He met Boomer’s eyes and sighed. “I suppose you have a right to know. I have just discovered that Troy and Dillon are…” He closed his eyes for a moment, apparently having trouble saying the words. " _Lovers_ ,” he finished at last, the word laced with disgust.

Boomer gaped at him. “They — but — Adama, what did you do?”

“What could I do, Colonel? I relieved them of duty.” Adama clenched his jaw. “And stripped them of rank.”

“But —” Boomer was at a loss for words. He hadn’t expected this — well, at least, he’d _hoped_ this wouldn’t happen. “He’s your grandson,” he pointed out at last. Adama’s expression tightened.

“To my shame,” he said.

That night, Boomer lay awake for a long time, indecisive. After several hours, he reached a decision, and fell asleep bolstered by his resolve.

 

***

 

The next day, Troy went to school as usual. He barely said a word to Jamie in the morning, and took the truck since Dillon wouldn’t need it until the evening. All day he had trouble focusing on what he was supposed to be learning, as Adama’s words kept ringing in his ears and the twisted look on his grandfather’s face hung in front of Troy’s eyes. Some people asked him what was wrong, but he brushed off their concern and they soon left him alone.

When he was driving home, his watch rang again. Troy ignored it at first, but the beeping started to annoy him and he pulled the device out of his backpack, not looking to see who was contacting him before he snapped, “What?”

“Troy, it’s Boomer. We need to talk.”

Surprised, Troy glanced down at the watch and inadvertently slowed. The driver behind him honked angrily, and he stepped too hard on the gas to compensate, so that he accelerated more quickly than he intended and was thrown back in his seat.

“Troy?” came Boomer’s voice again.

“Colonel,” Troy replied. “Why are you on a secure channel?”

There was a pause. “Like I said, we need to talk. Is there somewhere we can meet?”

“You know what happened?”

“I know.”

“Then why would you want to talk to me? And more to the point,” Troy added, “why should I want to talk to you?”

Boomer sighed. “Please, Troy. It’s important.”

Troy gave a toneless laugh. “That’s what Adama said, too.”

“Captain —” Boomer began. Troy cut him off.

“I’m not a Captain anymore.”

“ _Captain_ ,” Boomer repeated firmly. “I’m on your side, okay?”

Troy was quiet as he drove another block. “What do you mean?”

“Just trust me. Please.” When Troy didn’t answer, Boomer went on, “Name a time and place and I’ll meet you there. Bring Dillon, too.”

“What about Jamie?”

“You trust her?”

“With my life.”

“Good. Bring her if you want to. In fact, it would probably be good to have her there.”

Troy turned left onto the street they lived on and slowly nodded, though he knew Boomer couldn’t see him. “All right. Tomorrow morning, ten AM.” He named a coffee shop that was nearby, but not too close to home. Boomer agreed, and ended the transmission as Troy pulled into the garage.

 

***

 

The next day was Saturday. Dillon worked until closing on Friday nights, and getting him out of bed in time to make the 10 o’clock appointment had been a chore Troy couldn’t help resenting. They were a few minutes late, and found Boomer already sitting at a table, nursing a large cup of coffee.

“Hi, Colonel,” Jamie greeted him, trying to make up for Troy’s surly mood. Boomer nodded at her and smiled.

“Nice to see you, Jamie.”

The three of them ordered drinks, then joined Boomer. Troy, his expression guarded, leaned forward. “Why are we here?”

Boomer sighed and absently spun his mug around on the table. Troy reached out a hand and stopped the fiddling.

“Colonel.”

“I’m sorry.” Boomer rubbed his face with both hands. “You’re here for two reasons. First, I need to tell you about the mission.” Ignoring their exclamations of surprise, he looked straight at Troy. “And there are some things you should know about your father.”

“Sir,” said Dillon, “We’ve been stripped of rank. Somebody else will have to carry out the mission, whatever it is.”

“I don’t know if anybody else can,” Boomer replied gravely. He looked around the table, holding each of their gazes. “It’s Xaviar.”

“What?” Troy was so surprised he momentarily forgot to be sullen. “But he’s —”

“He’s a time traveler,” Boomer finished. “We always knew this might happen eventually. We defeated him only temporarily. It seems he’s decided it’s time to take his revenge.”

“How?”

Boomer shook his head. “We’re not exactly sure. The only reason we know he’s planning anything at all is because he sent us a message full of veiled threats. We were going to send you two to track him down and stop him before he causes any real damage.”

“Can we hear this message?” Troy asked, his training overpowering his distrust. Boomer handed him a rectangular audio tape.

“I copied it on Earth technology for you, so you can listen to it at home. Let me know what you think when you do. Contact me only on a secure channel using this encryption code,” he added, taking a paper napkin and writing something on it. “Talking to you unencrypted yesterday, even on the secure frequency, was a risk. As Commander, Adama could access that transmission if he really wanted to. That’s why I didn’t want to say too much over the airwaves.”

Troy took the napkin and studied it, nodding, then looked up at Boomer. “Why are you doing this?”

Boomer took a deep breath. “That’s the other thing I need to discuss with you.” He looked troubled. “Troy…you know about your father’s friendship with Lieutenant Starbuck. What very few people know is that it wasn’t _only_ a friendship. They were lovers.”

“What?” Troy sat back, stunned. “You mean my father was — he — why didn’t he ever tell me?” To his chagrin, Troy felt tears tingle at the corners of his eyes, and forced them back. “Why didn’t anyone ever —”

“Come on, Troy, do you really have to ask that, after what you’ve just been through?” Boomer sighed. “Our society doesn’t like to talk about such things, especially with children. Besides, Apollo and Starbuck weren’t together once your father fell in love with Sheba. Apollo made her his priority, and Starbuck accepted that. They stayed close friends until Starbuck got marooned, and Apollo mourned him more deeply than most people knew. Adama only found out about their…relationship much later, and he would have done to Apollo what he did to you, if he hadn’t needed him so badly.”

Troy sat in silence for a few seconds, feeling Jamie’s and Dillon’s eyes upon him. “How did you know?” he asked at last. “About Starbuck and my father.”

“I was their best friend,” Boomer replied. He seemed to battle with himself for a moment, then said quietly, “Actually, I was more than that.” He met Troy’s gaze. “I was their lover, too.”

“ _What_?” Troy said for the third time that morning, reeling. None of this seemed real.

“At various points,” Boomer explained, “and never in any serious capacity. It was all in the greatest secrecy, of course, and the other two eventually fell in love with women and committed themselves to more serious relationships. But we all loved each other.”

“What about you?” asked Jamie. “You said the other two fell in love and moved on. Did you?”

Boomer looked at her levelly, his eyes sad. “I never could. I was never interested in women, and I couldn’t risk revealing myself to anyone else. Those two were the only people in the world whom I trusted with my secret. So in the end, they were the loves of my life, I suppose.”

Silence fell over the table, punctuated by the soft _clunk_ of ceramic on wood as they sipped at their drinks. When he found himself staring into an empty mug, Troy looked up at Boomer.

“Thank you,” he said simply. “We’ll be in touch when we have an idea about Xaviar. Let me know if anything changes.”

“Of course.”

They stood, and Boomer shook hands with Troy across the table and nodded at the other two. Pulling on his jacket, Troy led the way out of the door and turned toward the truck with Dillon and Jamie in tow. They piled into the front seat next to him, and he drove away without a word. After a few blocks, he remembered the tape in his pocket and inserted it into the truck’s tape player.

“ _Hello, Adama,_ ” came Xaviar’s voice from the speakers. “ _I do hope you’re adjusting well. Earth is wonderful, isn’t it? Look forward to a visit from me. I have a present I think you’ll enjoy._ ” There was a pause. “ _Oh, Adama — do you keep track of all the children from the fleet? I do hope so. You never know what sort of trouble children can get into. Give my regards to Captain Troy and Lieutenant Dillon, will you? And that Earth girl, too_.” Xaviar chuckled. “ _Don’t forget to look under the bed for monsters_.”

 

***

 

Troy was grim and silent all that day, and all of Sunday, too. Without school to occupy him, he spent long periods brooding, ignoring Dillon’s and Jamie’s attempts to coax him out of his mood. He took Iris on long walks, and sat outside with her in the yard. The dog’s simple affection softened his disposition somewhat, but could not dissolve the hard, bitter lump in Troy’s gut. Nothing could, he decided. He would simply have to learn to live with it.

Dillon and Jamie watched him helplessly, not knowing what to do. Whenever either of them tried to ask Troy what was wrong, he would snap that nothing was wrong and make a show of doing normal things — the laundry, the grocery shopping, the dishes — as if doing chores was a sure sign that he was fine.

“He has been through a lot in the past few days,” Jamie pointed out for the third time, late on Sunday afternoon. Dillon crossed his arms.

“And I’d be happy to give him space, if I thought it would help.” He sighed. “I’ve known Troy as long as I can remember. He always seems to think he’s somehow protecting the people around him by pushing them away when he’s like this. After his father died, he wouldn’t talk to me for two weeks.”

Jamie sighed. “We’ve had this conversation over and over, and we never get anywhere. What do we _do_?”

“I don’t know.” Dillon scuffed the floor with his heel.

“What snapped him out of it after his father died? Who got through to him?”

Dillon tipped his head back and looked at the ceiling. “Adama.”

“Oh.” Jamie thought for a moment, then tossed down the towel she had been using to dry dishes. “I’m going to talk to him.”

Dillon looked unimpressed by the idea. “What are you going to say? I swear I’ve tried everything.”

“Well, I haven’t,” Jamie said grimly, and strode down the hallway to Troy’s room. She found him lying in bed, facing away from the door.

“Troy.”

He didn’t move.

“Troy, for heaven’s sake, _talk_ to me!”

“What about?” His voice was blank.

Jamie crossed the room, pulled open the curtains on the window, then sat on Troy’s bed next to him. “Whatever you want. Just talk.”

Troy didn’t answer for a long time. At last, he said, “Stop trying, Jamie. It’s not worth it. I’m fine.”

“No, you’re _not_!” Jamie’s temper snapped. “You can sulk all you want, Troy, but don’t try to push me and Dillon away, and don’t _fracking_ lie to me!” Slightly shocked by her own vehemence, she subsided briefly. But Troy had rolled over and met her gaze for the first time in over a day, so she gathered herself and went on. “You listen. I get that you’re dealing with a lot right now, I really do. But you have no right to treat us this way. You’re not the only one hurting, Troy, and it’s not going to get better if you don’t let us help you. Dealing with pain by shutting out everyone who cares about you has never worked very well before, has it?”

Troy’s brow creased. “How do you know —”

“How do you think? Remember, Dillon’s known you a long time. This isn’t the first time you’ve treated him like this.”

Troy closed his eyes and was quiet for a long moment. “You’re right,” he said at last, very softly. Jamie leaned closer, cupping a hand to her ear as if unable to hear him properly.

“Pardon me? What was that?”

“I said, you’re right.” Troy sighed. “I’m…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…I’m sorry.”

“Well, good,” said Jamie, moving to rise. “We were thinking of going out for dinner tonight, if you’d care to join us.”

“Wait.” Troy put a hand on her wrist. “Would you stay? Just for a little while.”

Jamie’s expression softened as she sank back onto the bed, then lay down, rolling on her side to face Troy. She took his hand and kissed the back of it. “We both love you, you know. Very much.”

Troy breathed deeply and closed his eyes. “I know. I love you both, too.”

They lay that way for a time, hands clasped between them. Troy dozed on and off, while Jamie watched his face and wondered what it felt like to be him. Eventually, there was an impatient knock on the door.

“Hey, I’m getting hungry out here. You planning to let me starve?”

Jamie laughed aloud, and Troy allowed a smile to cross his face. They sat up. Jamie cupped one of Troy’s cheeks in her hand and kissed the other, gently. He put his arms around her and held her tightly until Dillon knocked again.

“I’m giving you thirty seconds before I barge in,” he called. “Hurry up.”

Jamie and Troy got to their feet. Troy went ahead to open the door, where Dillon stood with his hands on his hips, looking annoyed. His expression changed when he saw Troy’s expression, becoming some combination of sad and hopeful and loving. Troy stopped in front of him, looked down at the floor, then back up.

“I owe you an apology,” he said. “I’m sorry I’ve been so…well. The way I’ve been.”

Dillon examined his face. “And how are you now?”

Troy gave a rueful half-smile. “Not very well. But I’m working on it. And I won’t shut you out anymore.”

Dillon smiled back. “In that case, apology accepted.” He leaned in and gave Troy a quick kiss. “Now let’s go to dinner.”

 

***

 

Troy contacted Boomer again that night, using the encryption code he’d been given. “Sorry for the delay, sir,” he said.

Boomer ignored the apology. “What do you have?”

“Questions.” Troy glanced up and met Dillon’s gaze across the kitchen table. “Do you know if any children have gone missing?”

“Not as far as we can tell,” Boomer replied. “As you know, every one of our colonies includes at least one Colonial warrior. We’ve been in touch with all of them, and none reported any problems with the children.”

“That’s good news, at least.” Troy tapped a pencil on the table. “There’s not much I can glean from that message. Clearly whatever he has planned involves the children, as well as myself, Dillon, and Jamie. That much makes sense; we’re the ones who thwarted him before, and now he wants revenge. But beyond that, I don’t know what to tell you. He didn’t even give any indication of how soon we should expect him.”

“What do you make of the last line?” Boomer asked.

“What, monsters under the bed?” Troy laughed. “You haven’t spent much time among Earthlings, have you, sir?”

“No, not much,” Boomer admitted.

“Respectfully, sir, I think you should get out more.” Troy tapped the pencil on his knee instead. “It’s common for Earth children to believe there are monsters hiding under their beds at night. Xaviar’s just referencing a clichéd childhood fear.”

“Oh.” Boomer sounded a little put out. “Well, thank you for calling, Captain. Let me know if you come up with anything else.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And Troy?”

Troy paused with his finger above the “end transmission” button. “Yes, sir?”

“How are you holding up?”

Troy took several seconds to answer. “I’m…getting along, sir. I have Dillon and Jamie.”

“Yes. That’s good. If you ever want to talk about your father —”

“I’ll call you, sir. For now, I’m afraid I’m a little busy for reminiscing.”

“Of course. Good night, Troy.”

“Good night, Colonel.”

 

***

 

Troy kicked a pebble along the sidewalk as he walked, Iris ranging ahead of him and occasionally bounding back to urge him on. It was a beautiful afternoon, and he’d just taken her out for a walk after getting home from class. Jamie was still at work, and Dillon was working his Monday afternoon shift, leaving Troy and Iris home alone. Neither of them minded.

Climbing the steps to the front door, Troy opened it and grabbed the mail as he stepped inside after Iris. He shuffled through it, found nothing interesting, and dropped it on the counter.

The phone rang. Troy turned in surprise and picked up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Captain Troy,” said a voice that seemed familiar, though it was hard to tell over the phone. “I’m so glad I reached you.”

“I’m sorry, who is this?”

“It’s Flight Sergeant Reta, sir. We used to serve together on the _Galactica_.” She paused. “I heard about what happened.”

“What? How? What do you know?” Troy couldn’t fathom how word could have gotten out. He knew Adama would want to keep the shameful secret as guarded as possible, and he couldn’t imagine that Boomer would have told anyone.

“Only that you and Lieutenant Dillon have been relieved of duty, sir.” Another pause. “I just wanted to tell you that a lot of us are still on your side. My daughter Starla was among the children you two cared for on Earth, and we know how much you risked to keep those kids safe. She still talks about you.”

Troy smiled. “Yes, I remember Starla. Good throwing arm.” He stopped, choosing his words. “Sergeant Reta, do you know the circumstances of my dismissal?”

“No, sir.”

“Do you want to?”

Reta took a long time to answer. “You don’t have to tell me —”

“But you are curious.”

“Sir, whatever it is, we stand by you. My family and I are deeply in your debt. We won’t forget that.”

“In that case,” said Troy, “you deserve to know what you’re getting yourself into.” He took a deep breath. _How do I do this_? “Sergeant, do you know the Earth term ‘homosexual’?”

Reta let out a pent-up breath. “What, like gay? Of course. Is that what this is all about?”

Troy frowned. “Well, yes, I — it doesn’t bother you?”

“Sir, with all due respect to Commander Adama, he’s spent the past three years living on the _Galactica_ , surrounded by relics of a lost civilization. The rest of us have learned to integrate, let go of some of the old ideas. My husband and I live next door to a lesbian couple, and let me tell you, they put on a _superb_ barbecue party.”

“Oh.” Troy laughed. “Well, that was easier than I expected.”

“Sir,” said Reta, “would you and Lieutenant Dillon like to come over for dinner sometime? My husband has just learned how to make an amazing dessert called a soufflé, and he’s dying to try it out on guests.”

Troy grinned. “I think we’d like that. Thank you, Sergeant. What’s your phone number, so I can call you back?” As he noted down the numbers Reta gave him, Troy added, “You don’t have to keep calling me 'sir,' you know. Dillon and I aren’t officers anymore.”

“Too bad, sir,” said Reta, a hint of a smile in her voice. “That just means you can’t have me court-martialed.” There was silence for a few seconds. “Sir, would it be all right if I told some of the others? Everyone’s dying to know why you got kicked, and knowing it’s this minor would put a lot of people at ease. Not many in our generation are still so caught up in the old beliefs.”

Troy hesitated. “I should talk to Dillon first. See how he feels about it. I shouldn’t even have told you without his permission.”

“Understood, sir. Call me about dinner. Starla’s been all over me to have you over.” There was some background noise that Troy couldn’t identify. “Oh, here she comes now. You want to say hello?”

“Sure,” Troy smiled. Soon Starla’s voice, still high-pitched and childish, came through the receiver.

“Hi, Captain Troy!”

“Hi, Starla. How are you doing?”

“I’m really good! Did you know I’m in third grade now? Earth children are funny. I like them. I’m so much taller than last time I saw you! I bet you can’t even pick me up anymore.”

“Oh, really?” Troy laughed. “Well, we’ll have to test that one out when I come over for dinner, won’t we?”

“You’re coming to my house?” Starla’s voice rose to a higher pitch in her excitement. Troy heard her stage-whisper to her mother, “ _He’s coming to my house_?”

“I sure am.”

“When?”

“Well, I don’t know quite yet,” admitted Troy. “I have to talk to Lieutenant Dillon about that.”

“And Miss Jamie? Will she come too?” Starla sounded eager.

“Maybe. If she wants to, and if your parents agree.”

“Oh, please, Mama? Can’t Miss Jamie come, too?

Reta’s voice came through from the background. “I don’t see why not, if she’d like to.”

“Yaaaay!” Starla squealed, and Troy heard her mother laugh.

“All right, sweetie, why don’t you say goodbye to Captain Troy and go back outside with your friends?”

“Okay, fine. Bye-bye, Captain Troy. Bring Miss Jamie, please!”

“I’ll do my best. Bye-bye, Starla.”

Reta came back on the line, chuckling. “Sorry about all that.”

“About what?” Troy asked. “You have no idea how much that conversation brightened up my day. It sounds like she’s doing well.”

“Oh, yes, Starla loves Earth.”

“That’s good to hear.” Troy leaned on the counter and smiled. “Thank you for getting in touch, Reta. I’ll call you back soon.”

“I look forward to it, sir. Have a good evening.”

“You too.” Troy hung the phone on the wall and turned to Iris, who was watching him with round eyes.

“You hear that, girl? We’ve got friends.”

 

***

 

“You’ll never guess who I heard from today,” Troy said over dinner. The other two looked up.

“Who?” asked Jamie.

“Hm…Sergeant Reta?” said Dillon. Troy stared at him.

“How did you —”

“What can I say? I’m a genius,” replied Dillon, grinning and spreading his arms. Then he let them fall. “Okay, no, I saw the note with her name and phone number next to the phone. Isn’t she Starla’s mother?”

“Yes. She’d heard about our situation and called to offer her support. And invite us to dinner.”

“Did she know about —” Dillon gestured. “Us?”

“She didn’t know.” Troy took a breath. “I told her.”

“You —” Dillon stood abruptly.

“I know,” Troy said quickly. “I shouldn’t have outed you without permission. It was a hasty decision, and I’m sorry.”

“What? No.” Dillon ran a hand through his hair. “Troy, I’m not upset because you outed me. I’m upset because you put yourself in danger for no good reason. You had no way of knowing how Reta would react —”

“No good reason?” Troy interrupted. “Is being honest about who I am not enough of a reason?”

Dillon sighed and sank back into his chair. “I didn’t mean — I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get mad. It just…look, you’ve been in a mood lately, and when you’re like that I don’t really know how your mind is working. Sometimes you can get self-destructive. Reckless, you know.” He reached over and touched Troy’s hand. “I just worry about you, that’s all.”

Troy smiled and tickled Dillon’s palm. “Well, don’t. Reta was very cool about it all. She wanted to tell some others about it, but I asked her to wait until I talked to you.”

Dillon nodded. “Thanks. I wonder who she plans to tell?” He took a bite of mashed potatoes. “Did you talk to Starla?”

“I did, actually,” Troy said, and Jamie looked up.

“Oh, how is she? She was ever such a sweetheart.”

“It sounds like she’s doing really well,” Troy told her. “She misses you. Positively begged me to bring you to dinner at their house.”

Jamie beamed. “I’d love that. When are we going?”

“Well, I told Reta I’d talk to both of you and call her back to schedule a date,” Troy explained. “Maybe this weekend?”

“How about Saturday?” Dillon suggested. “I have work on Friday nights and the early shift on Sunday. Sunday is also fine, but I’ll be yawning all through dinner.”

Jamie shrugged. “Saturday works for me.”

When they were done eating, Troy called Reta back. “Hi. I talked to Dillon and Jamie about dinner. Is this weekend too soon?”

“Not at all,” said Reta. Troy pictured her scanning a calendar for engagements. “This weekend is perfect, actually. We’re free every evening. When were you thinking?”

“Saturday is best for us, I think,” Troy told her.

“Saturday it is!” There was a faint background scratching as Reta made a note on the calendar. “Come by around six?”

“Sounds good,” Troy agreed. “How do we get there?”

Reta gave him directions and Troy jotted them down, smiling. “Great. We’ll see you then.” Glancing across the room, he added, “Dillon and Jamie say hi to Starla. They’re both waving.”

“I’ll tell her. Good night, sir.”

“Good night, Sergeant.”

 

***

 

They arrived at Reta’s house a few minutes before six on Saturday. Reta opened the door and gave them a welcoming smile as she ushered them inside. “It’s wonderful to see you all,” she said. “Thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for inviting us,” Troy replied, then staggered back as a small form barreled into him, squealing.

“Captain Troy! You came! You came you came you came!”

Troy laughed and picked the child up. “Hi, Starla.”

“Hi!” From her new vantage point in Troy’s arms, Starla looked around. “Miss Jamie!” she exclaimed, and started wriggling until Troy set her down again and she could rush to Jamie, who hugged her, laughing.

Dillon turned to Reta and held out a bottle he had been carrying. “Here. This is for you.”

“We heard it’s customary to bring wine when invited to dinner at someone’s home,” Troy explained.

“It’s a good vintage,” Dillon put in.

“Dillon’s a bartender, so we believe him when he tells us about alcohol.”

Reta smiled. “Well, thank you all. This should go nicely with dinner.”

Dillon turned to Starla, who had finally let go of Jamie and was babbling happily. He squatted down to get on her eye level.

“Hey, Starla.”

“Hi!” She hugged him around the neck.

“You have a little brother, don’t you?”

“Uh-huh.” Starla nodded solemnly. “He’s five.”

“Can you go get him? We have a present for both of you, too.”

“Okay!”

Starla vanished up a flight of stairs, then reappeared a minute later with a small, tousle-haired boy in tow. “That’s my brother,” she informed them importantly. “His name’s Leonid, but everybody calls him Lip.”

“Well, hi, Lip,” said Dillon, turning to the boy and touching his shoulder. “Nice to meet you. My name’s Dillon, and that’s Troy and Jamie.”

“Hi,” the child said quietly.

“Here.” Dillon revealed the other item he’d been carrying. It was a children’s book, its cover illustrated with a picture of a woman on a hill and inscribed with the title _Miss Rumphius_. “This is for the two of you.”

Starla tilted her head at the cover. “Miss Rumpy-us?” she asked, eyebrows knitting together. “Who’s that?”

“Well, you’ll just have to find out later, won’t you?” Troy replied, smiling. The three of them had found the book earlier that afternoon, leafing through it in a bookstore and finding themselves surprisingly touched by the story, considering it was intended for young children.

“Will you read it to us?” Starla suggested, her face brightening. Troy ruffled her hair.

“How about after dinner, hm?”

At that moment, a voice came from the kitchen, calling, “Food’s here, get it while it’s hot!”

Reta herded the group toward an oblong wooden dining table set for six, and nodded to the man who emerged from the kitchen, carrying a steaming pan in a pair of oven mitts shaped like fish. “You remember my husband, Pell?”

“Yes, of course,” said Troy. He waited until Pell’s hands were free, then shook his hand. “You were a shuttle pilot on the _Galactica_ , right?”

“That’s right, Captain.” Pell beamed and gestured for everyone to take their seats.

“So,” inquired Dillon as he spread his napkin on his lap, “what do the two of you do for a living here on Earth?”

“What else? I fly,” Pell replied, serving up plates. “I’m a pilot for a commercial airline. Couldn’t give it up.”

Troy nodded. “I thought about doing that. Ended up going to fire academy instead.”

“Couldn’t stay away from the adventure, huh?” grinned Reta.

Troy shrugged. “I like being able to help people.”

Dillon rolled his eyes. “Hey, I help people too.”

“By selling them booze?” Troy raised his eyebrows.

“By giving them an emotional outlet.” Dillon looked around. “Come on, you know people like to talk to bartenders. They need someone to listen to their problems, give them advice. So I help people. I just don’t have a weird hero complex about it.”

“I like to think I help people at my job, too,” Jamie put in thoughtfully. “The public deserves to know what’s going on in the world, and it’s my job to give them the truth. What about you, Reta? What do you do?”

Reta smiled. “I’m actually in medical school right now. I’m going to be a heart surgeon.”

The others exchanged glances. “I think we all just got outclassed,” Dillon said.

After dinner, Starla reminded Troy of his promise to read to her and Lip, so he settled on the couch with a child on each side. Jamie sat next to Starla, and Pell took the space next to Lip, leaving Dillon and Reta to claim the other chairs in the living room.

Smiling down at the children, Troy opened the book and turned to the first page. “The Lupine Lady lives in a small house overlooking the sea,” he began. “In between the rocks around her house grow blue and purple and rose-colored flowers. The Lupine Lady is little and old. But she has not always been that way…”

When he finished, everyone sat quiet for a few seconds. Starla, predictably, was first to break the silence.

“I like that book,” she said.

“Yeah?” Jamie smiled at her. “Do you want to be like Alice, and make the world a more beautiful place?”

“Uh-huh.” Starla nodded. “But not by planting flowers. I wanna make it so there’s rainbows every day and big trees everywhere and no nasty smog in the air.”

The adults smiled. “Good plan, Starla.” Troy nudged Lip, who had remained silent throughout the story. “How about you? Do you have any ideas about how to make the world more beautiful?”

Lip nodded and toyed with the sleeve of his shirt. “I’m gonna paint nice pictures,” he said, so softly that Troy had to lean forward to hear him.

“Is that right?” Troy smiled. “I hope you’ll show me some of your work someday. I was never much of an artist myself.”

“What about you, Captain Troy?” asked Starla. Troy looked around at her.

“What about me? Oh, you mean how do I try to make the world a more beautiful place?” When Starla nodded, Troy thought for a moment, letting his eyes wander around the room. Then he smiled. “Do you know what I think the most beautiful thing in the world is, Starla?”

She shook her head, wide-eyed.

“To me,” Troy explained, “the most beautiful thing in the world is a person who feels happy and safe and loved. So I do my best to make the people around me feel that way as often as possible.”

“How?”

“By loving them, and being honest with them, and helping them when they need it. And by letting them help me, too.” He made eye contact with Dillon and Jamie, and they both smiled back at him. _I’m so lucky_.


	4. Fireweed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which a lot of things happen very quickly. CW violence and stuff.

_You don’t waste no time at all_

_Don’t hear the bell, but you answer the call_

_It comes to you as to us all_

_We’re just waiting for the hammer to fall._

— “Hammer to Fall,” Queen

 

“Sometimes I think I’m over it,” Troy said quietly. “But then I think about it, and I feel exactly the same as I did the day Adama threw me out.”

Dillon lifted his head off the pillow, surprised. It was the first time Troy had spoken about that day, now two weeks in the past. He measured his words carefully, not wanting to accidentally upset Troy.

“I know I don’t know exactly how you feel,” he began. “But I hope you know that I feel it.” He placed a hand over Troy’s heart. “I feel this.”

A slight smile touched Troy’s mouth, and he covered Dillon’s hand with his own. “I know. I wish you didn’t have to.”

“Don’t wish that. I’d rather share it than have you carry it alone. I’m right with you, Troy. Always.”

Troy took a very deep breath and let it out slowly, closing his eyes. “Thank you,” he breathed. He felt tears begin to leak out the corners of his eyes and let them run down his temples and into his hair. Dillon leaned forward and, with the utmost gentleness, kissed the nearer tear track.

“You don’t ever have to be over it,” he murmured. “But I hope I can help make it smaller.”

 

***

 

The following evening saw them at Reta and Pell’s house again, lounging around on the porch as night fell. The two groups had quickly become fast friends, and had visited each other several times over the preceding week. This time Iris had joined the delegation, and the children were playing with her in the backyard.

Pell came outside, carrying a tray and letting the screen door swing shut behind him. “Cheese and crackers, anyone?”

“Ooh.” Jamie sat forward eagerly. She knew by now that when Pell offered food, even something as simple as cheese and crackers, it was likely to be exquisite. For a few minutes, they were all quiet as they sampled the offerings, except for the occasional exclamation when someone tried a particularly good cheese.

“‘Have you heard from Lieutenant Nash?” Dillon asked Reta, nibbling on a piece of Gouda. She shook her head.

“Not since last time you asked, but it’s possible he’s been ordered to keep mission updates classified. Have you had any word from the Colonel?”

“No.” Troy leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees, studying his hands. “I almost wish Xaviar would make his move already. I’d rather be fighting than sitting around waiting for something to go wrong.”

“I know what you mean,” Reta agreed.

Pell looked at his watch — a regular, primitive Earth watch. “Oh, dear. It’s eight forty-five already.” He stood up and went down onto the grass, calling toward the backyard. “Lip! Starla! It’s past your bedtime, kids.”

Lip dragged his feet, but Starla dropped the tennis ball she’d been about to throw and ran past her father and up to the porch, in a great hurry. Troy halted her rush with a hand on her shoulder. “Slow down, you’ll hurt yourself. What’s the rush?”

Starla was wide-eyed. “I gotta go! If I’m not in bed by nine he gets mad.”

“Who gets mad?” Reta asked, frowning.

“ _He_ does, Mama! You know, the voice under my bed!”

Reta relaxed. “Don’t worry about that, sweetheart.” She leaned toward Troy and explained, “Lately she’s gotten it into her head that there’s someone under her bed. She says he tells her scary stories. I think it’s the kids at school who’ve been telling her stories, and she got scared by some tale about monsters under the bed.”

Troy looked closely at Starla. Children did have active imaginations, he knew, but the phrasing worried him. He remembered Xaviar’s voice coming out of the tape: _Don’t forget to look under the bed for monsters_. He had dismissed the line as meaningless, just as Reta had dismissed Starla’s fears, but now he wondered. It wouldn’t do to take chances, he decided. “We’ll check it out,” he said. “Starla, go brush your teeth. Dillon and I will take a look at your bed.” He nodded at Pell and Reta, who both smiled, assuming he was humoring Starla to make her feel better.

Upstairs, Starla pointed out her room to them and went to the bathroom to brush her teeth. While Troy used his watch to scan the room, Dillon slid himself under Starla’s bed and felt around.

“I need a flashlight,” he said after a few seconds. Troy looked around.

“Here.” He handed Dillon a pen with a light on its top end. Dillon looked at it and shrugged.

“I guess that’ll do.” He returned to his search, peering into corners and feeling around. A few minutes later, he stopped. “Hang on. I might have something.” Dillon slid out from under the bed and held out a small plastic button. “This was stuck between the mattress and one of the slats of the bed frame. What do you make of it?”

Crouching, Troy took the item and held it up to his scanner. “I’m not getting any signal from it, but that doesn’t mean anything except that it’s not active right now. Maybe it activates at nine every night — that’s when Starla said she has to be in bed by.”

Just then, Starla came in the door. She saw the two men examining the button and froze, eyes widening.

“You can’t touch that!” she said. “It’s not for grown-ups. Put it back.”

Troy turned to face her. “What is it?”

“I told you, it’s not for grown-ups.” Starla tried to snatch the button out of Troy’s hand, but he pulled away.

“Why not?” asked Dillon. “It looks like just a little white button. What’s so secret about that?”

“He said I should never —” Starla paled. “It’s nine o’clock! You have to leave. He’s angry with me.”

“What?” Dillon looked between Starla and the small, inert object in Troy’s hand. “You mean he’s talking to you now?”

Troy turned his scanner on again. “Dillon, look at this. I’m getting a signal now.”

“Then why can’t we hear it?”

“Because…” Troy gazed at Starla. “Because it’s not for grown-ups! That’s it! He’s transmitting at a frequency only children can hear!” He pointed his watch at the button and entered a series of commands. Tinny and high-pitched, a voice came through the watch.

“— _don’t you listen to me, Starla?_ ” it said. There was a pause, then the voice resumed, “ _Ah. Captain Troy, Lieutenant Dillon. How nice of you to drop in._ ”

Starla was shaking her head frantically. “You have to leave!” she pleaded with Troy and Dillon. “He doesn’t want grown-ups to know!”

“ _That’s all right, darling_ ,” the voice soothed. Becoming stern again, it continued, “ _I wondered if you two would catch up to me. I admit I had hoped for a little more time, but no matter — I have enough._ ”

“Xaviar.” Troy’s voice was steady. “What are you doing?”

“ _All in good time, Captain, all in good time. Now if you’d be so kind, I need to speak to young Starla. Alone._ ”

Thinking fast, Troy passed the button to Dillon. _Keep him talking_ , he mouthed. Dillon nodded.

“So, Xaviar,” Dillon began cheerfully. “Where have you been all this time? Or should I say — _when_ have you been?”

While Dillon chattered, Troy worked as swiftly as he could with the limited functions on his watch. After grappling with it for two or three minutes, he finally got the device to do what he wanted, and nodded at Dillon.

“Well, it’s been nice chatting, Xaviar,” Dillon said. “Don’t let the bedbugs bite. Or do, it doesn’t make much difference to me.”

Troy looked at Starla. “I’m sorry about all this,” he told her. “We’re going to sort it out as fast as we can. You let your parents know if anything changes, all right?”

She nodded, and Troy got to his feet and left. Dillon followed.

“What did you get?” Dillon asked in an undertone, when the door was closed behind them.

“I managed to trace his signal. The coordinates are saved in my watch, but it’s not set up to display three-dimensional coordinates. We have to get the location to Boomer so he can use the _Galactica_ ’s navigational equipment to find Xaviar. What did you find out?”

“Apparently he spent the last six years as the King of France,” Dillon replied. “Went back in time, killed some historical king he’d read all about, and used the epidermal disguise to take his place.”

Troy nodded. “All while making sure not to alter history and alert us to his whereabouts. That makes sense. I suppose he spent all that time nursing his need for revenge, and coming up with the perfect plan to use against us?”

“We do have some good news,” Dillon said.

“What’s that?” Troy didn’t see what good there could be in the situation.

“He hasn’t been to the future. I think he’s sticking to the past because he can read about it and know what to expect. The future could be dangerous to him.” Dillon shrugged. “The point is, his technology is no more advanced than ours. Less advanced, since he doesn’t have access to anything Doctor Zee has come up with in the past three years.”

“Right now, neither do we,” Troy reminded him. “Hell, right now we don’t even have access to a Viper.”

“True.” Dillon frowned and shoved his hands into his pockets. “That is a problem.”

“Did you manage to chase away the monster?” Pell grinned up at them as they descended the stairs. Troy and Dillon exchanged a glance.

“Go get Reta and Jamie,” said Troy. “You should all hear this.”

His face losing its usual boyish cheer, Pell hurried out to the porch and returned a moment later with his wife and Jamie. All of them wore confused, concerned expressions.

“Why don’t we all sit down?” Dillon suggested, gesturing toward the living room.

Reta didn’t move. “Tell us what’s going on,” she said in a low voice. “Are our children in danger?”

“Danger?” Pell looked at her in surprise. “Why would they be in danger?”

She didn’t take her eyes off Troy. “Captain, I served with you for a long time. I know how you look when you’re about to give someone terrible news. Don’t mince words with me.”

“Right.” Troy met her gaze, then Pell’s, and sighed heavily. _I suppose there’s no easy way to go about this_. “The voice under Starla’s bed isn’t her imagination. It’s Xaviar.”

Pell and Jamie gasped in unison, and Reta clenched her jaw. Her voice shook ever so slightly as she asked, “How do you know?”

“We heard him,” Dillon told her. “We talked to him.”

Silence fell for a few seconds, then Reta said, “What were you able to find out?”

“We traced his signal,” Troy replied. “But we need better technology than we have to correctly configure the coordinates we got. A Viper at least, ideally the _Galactica_.”

“And thanks to recent events,” Reta finished for him, “you don’t have access to either.”

“Right,” Troy confirmed. “We’re going to send the coordinates to Boomer and hope he’ll be able to process the coordinates and get us our Vipers so we can go after Xaviar.”

“Send them to me, too,” Reta said. “I can transmit them to Nash. Adama should allow him to use whatever he needs for the mission.”

Troy nodded and pressed a series of buttons on his watch. “There. You should have them.” He pressed a few more, and Boomer’s voice came out of the device.

“Boomer here. What’s going on, Troy?”

“We found Xaviar.”

“What? How? What happened?”

“I’ll explain later. I’m transmitting the coordinates to you now. You’ll need to use the _Galactica_ ’s computers to process the raw data and identify his location.”

“Understood. What do you plan to do then?”

Troy glanced at Dillon. “We were hoping you could get us a pair of Vipers, sir.”

“Vipers?” Boomer paused. “That could be difficult. Adama will want to know what I want with them.”

“I know,” Troy agreed. “Sergeant Reta will also be sending the coordinates to Lieutenant Nash, so he can go after Xaviar with Adama’s support. But I think it would be best if Dillon and I went, too. We’ve gone up against Xaviar before.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you, sir. Good luck.”

“You too, Captain.”

Troy ended the transmission and looked at the three faces around him. “That’s all we can do for now.” He looked at Reta. “Get those coordinates to Nash right away.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice, sir,” replied Reta, going to a drawer and pulling out her own watch. She pressed some buttons, and waited. “Nash? Nash, this is Reta. Come in, please.” There was no answer, and she growled. “Damn! He must not have his watch on him. Fracking irresponsible. Hang on.” Going to the phone, she picked it up and dialed a number, then held it between her ear and shoulder as she continued to punch in commands on her watch. “Nash, this is Reta. Pick up, damn you. Okay, listen. I’m transmitting a set of coordinates to your watch. Process them with the nav equipment in a Viper or onboard the  _Galactica_ , and they’ll lead you to Xaviar. And hurry up, sir. My children might be in danger.” Wearing a hard expression, she hung up the phone. “Where on Earth is he?”

“Do you know who he was working with?” Troy asked. Reta thought.

“Lieutenant Eril, I think. I’ll try her.”

Eril didn’t answer her watch. Troy frowned. One warrior being irresponsible enough to leave their watch behind while on a crucial mission was hard to believe. Two of them doing so was wildly unlikely.

“Xaviar’s gotten to them,” he concluded aloud.

Jamie’s eyes widened. “You mean they’re dead?”

Troy shrugged. “I don’t know. He knew they were trying to find him. He would have wanted them out of the way.”

“And now he knows we’re after him, too,” Dillon pointed out. “Do you think he’ll come for us?”

Troy shook his head. “No. We’re the whole point of his operation, remember? If he just wanted us dead, he wouldn’t have bothered with this elaborate scheme with the children. He wants us to come to him.”

“Then you can’t go after him!” Jamie exclaimed. “You’ll be playing right into his hands.”

Troy looked at her. “Jamie, we can’t just sit by. I don’t know what he’s planning with the children, but with Nash and Eril missing, it may be up to us to put a stop to it. Even if another warrior could get here in time, Adama wouldn’t just let them take a Viper.”

“What about me?” Reta suggested. “The commander has no reason to distrust me.”

“How will you explain to him why you need a Viper, and where you got the coordinates?” Dillon asked.

Reta hesitated. “I could tell him Lieutenant Nash sent them to me before we lost contact. As if he needed to send them to someone, but for some reason was unable to go after Xaviar himself.”

Troy considered her proposal. “It might work. But it’s a long shot, Reta. Even if you do get your hands on a Viper, do you really think you can go up against Xaviar with just one ship? Who knows what he’s got waiting out there?” He shook his head. “No, I think our best chance is to wait for Boomer. Adama will still listen to him.”

 

***

 

None of them slept well that night. In the morning, eyes itching with weariness as he forced down his breakfast, Troy contacted Boomer again.

“I computed the coordinates,” Boomer said without preamble. “He seems to be orbiting Mars.”

“What about the Vipers?” Troy asked. Boomer sighed.

“I tried to tell Adama I needed to take them out for routine test flights. Unfortunately, all the Vipers have been tested in the last month, so he didn’t buy it. And now he’s suspicious. I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, figure something out, sir,” Troy said and ended the transmission.

He had barely taken another bite of his bagel when the phone rang. Dillon, sitting across from him, reached behind him to answer the call.

“Hello?” A few seconds passed. Dillon blanched. “She went — okay, Pell, slow down and tell me exactly what happened.” A longer pause. “ _Gods_. I understand. We’ll do everything we can, Pell.” He hung up the phone, and turned to look at Troy. “He’s taken them. The children are gone. Reta went to the _Galactica_ to get a Viper and chase him down.”

“ _What_?” Jamie stood framed in the doorway, stopped in her tracks.

Troy’s watch beeped. Automatically, he acknowledged the transmission.

“ _You have three hours, Captain_ ,” said the same eerie, high-pitched voice that had come from the button in Starla’s room. “ _Then they start to die_.” The device went silent. Troy’s hands curled into fists.

“We can’t wait anymore. We have to go after him.”

“How?” asked Dillon.

Troy met his gaze. “We’re going to have to steal some Vipers.”

 

***

 

Troy and Dillon crouched in the tall grass several hundred yards from the disguised _Galactica_. Troy narrowed his eyes, gauging distances.

“The starboard hangar bay should be right there,” he decided, pointing out what appeared to be a long, two-story house. “If we can make it inside, we can get our Vipers into the launch tubes and go.”

Dillon studied the expanse of open terrain between them and their destination. “You’re sure we’ll be invisible to their sensors?”

Troy smiled thinly. “No. But the modifications I made should shield us pretty effectively, if I got it all right.” He glanced at Dillon. “It has been three years.”

“You’ve got a good memory,” Dillon responded with a shrug, trying to keep his voice light. Troy raised one eyebrow.

“I hope so. In any case, once we break in, the bridge will be alerted. Then it’s up to Boomer to keep Adama from stopping us until we’re on our way.”

“Right.” Dillon took a breath. “Well, no time like the present, right?”

“Let’s go.”

Each of them pressed a button on his watch, and they shimmered into invisibility. They moved at a flat-out run, staying just far enough apart that they didn’t accidentally kick each other. To an observer, it would have seemed that the grass parted and flattened of its own accord. Fortunately, there were no observers.

Out of breath, they found their way to a launch tube. The exterior hatch was locked, and Troy had to risk becoming visible for a few seconds in order to unlock the hatch using an impulse from his watch. He disappeared again to clamber inside after Dillon, and they hurried to the other end.

“Hey,” said Dillon’s voice in the darkness. “There’s already a Viper ready to go!”

Troy grunted. “One thing I’ll say for Adama, he’s always ready for trouble.”

“Lucky for us. I wasn’t looking forward to wrestling the Vipers into place with just two people.”

“It would have cost us a lot of time, too,” agreed Troy. “You take this one. I’ll take that one.” He pointed to the Viper on their left.

“Understood.” There was the sound of footsteps, and the cockpit cover on the Viper lifted, then settled back into place.

As Dillon got in position, Troy made his way to the Viper he’d chosen for himself. Behind him, footsteps pounded.

“Security,” he breathed. “Felgercarb, Boomer, you were supposed to keep them off our backs.”

Moving quickly, Troy slipped into his launch tube and ran to the outer end. The hatch was rusted, and took him longer to open than he would have liked. As he ran back to the waiting Viper, he heard voices.

“Someone’s in tube two! You two, go for Viper one. Tuller, you’re with me.”

Troy clambered into the Viper and stuffed his helmet onto his head. The voices were almost upon him.

“Go, Dillon!” he yelled.

“You don’t have to say that again!” Dillon replied. Troy jammed the “Turbo” button with his thumb, and heard cries of alarm as the security personnel stumbled back from the two sudden jets. Troy was slammed back into his seat as he accelerated, shooting out of the _Galactica_ and out over the hills. Belatedly, he remembered to turn on the Viper’s force field.

“Try not to bump into me,” he said to Dillon.

“That would be easier if I could see you.”

“If you could see me, the _Galactica_ could see me too. And I’m willing to bet Adama has kept her guns loaded and ready.”

“Fair point.” Dillon paused. “Tell you what, I’ll hang back for five seconds right here, give you some space.”

“Okay. Turn off your force field once you’re out of the atmosphere. And don’t hit any airplanes.”

“I’ll do my best,” Dillon replied. “Okay, I’m following you now.”

Soon they were free of Earth’s atmosphere, and became visible once more. “All right,” said Troy. “Boomer should have loaded the coordinates onto all the Vipers. Pull them up and follow Xaviar.”

“Already on it. Do you think he’ll stay put?”

“Probably. Remember, he wants us to find him. We just have to account for Mars’s orbital trajectory and rotation.”

They flew in silence for a moment, then Dillon said, “Troy? I’m getting two ships on my scanners, coming up behind.”

“Felgercarb,” swore Troy. “I didn’t think Adama would take the risk of attracting Air Force attention by chasing us down.”

“Well, apparently he did.” Dillon paused, then continued. “Hang on. Troy, are you hearing this?”

“I sure am.” Troy risked a glance behind, and didn’t know whether to laugh at what he saw. “Reta? What are you doing here?”

“What do you think?” Reta’s Viper pulled up beside him. “I’m rescuing my children.”

“Who’s in the shuttle?” Troy asked, gesturing. One of the _Galactica_ ’s shuttles was following the Vipers at a little distance.

“Pell and Jamie. I called some of the other parents before I left — at least eleven children went missing last night. Figured we needed the space, so Pell volunteered to join us.”

“How did Jamie get involved?”

Reta gave a bark of laughter. “I would’ve had to lock her up to keep her from being involved. After you two took off, she drove to my house and insisted on going along with Pell. I like her.”

“She’s a good person to have at your back,” Troy agreed.

“Would you two quit talking about me like I’m not here?” Jamie’s voice cut in. Troy grinned.

“Sorry, James. Good to have you along.”

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

A little while later, they were within range of Mars. Troy turned on his scanner. “You all see him?”

“I see him.” Reta’s voice was steely.

“All right,” Troy said. “Reta, Dillon, flank me. No fancy tactics, we’re going to approach him head-on and keep him busy. Pell, pull up alongside and get the children out as fast as you can. You should be able to cut through the outer hatch on his airlock and dock with him. Loop wide to come in behind his guns.”

Xaviar’s ship puzzled Troy. The front of it looked like a normal Viper — the Viper Xaviar had used to escape into the past — but behind it was a larger, boxy structure. _He’s modified it to hold at least thirty people_ , Troy realized. _More, if they’re children. He must have gotten fewer because we forced his hand before he was ready._

“Captain,” came Xaviar’s voice through the helmet. At least, it must have been Xaviar’s voice. It sounded young and clear. “What took you so long?”

“It’s over, Xaviar,” Troy replied, trying to sound certain of that. “We’ve got you outgunned three to one.”

Xaviar laughed. “Do you really expect me to believe that you would fire on a ship full of children? Ah,” he continued, “Sergeant Reta. Your children are among my cargo, aren’t they? You wouldn’t let anyone fire on my ship while they’re on board, would you?”

Troy watched the shuttle make its way toward the airlock on Xaviar’s ship. Xaviar laughed again.

“You really think you can rescue them? I thought you were smarter than that, Troy.”

“Captain,” Pell said, “I can’t cut through the hatch. He must have it reinforced.”

“Keep trying,” Troy told him, then switched back to Xaviar’s frequency. “I’m giving you one chance to surrender.”

“Are you really in a position to make demands, Captain?” Xaviar asked. “I think _I_ should be the one giving _you_ a chance to turn yourselves in, before the children start dying.”

“And I’m just supposed to believe that you would let the children go, once you have us?” Troy scoffed.

“Captain, you insult me.” Xaviar paused. “Why don’t you come over to my ship and we can talk this through in person?”

Troy glanced around at Reta and Dillon, and at the shuttle where it was still trying to break through the airlock of Xaviar’s ship.

“Troy,” said Dillon slowly, recognizing the look on his face. “You’re not thinking of going over there.”

“It’ll buy us time, at least,” Troy replied. “You two keep an eye on things out here. I’ll keep him talking as long as I can. Remember, our priority is to get the children to safety.”

He flew in close to Xaviar’s ship, switching out his usual helmet for the hermetically sealed space helmet. Xaviar did the same, and opened his cockpit. Taking a deep breath, Troy tethered his ship to Xaviar’s, then climbed out of his Viper and into the seat behind Xaviar. Xaviar closed the cockpit and removed his helmet, turning to face Troy.

Troy stared. Instead of Xaviar’s familiar, lizard-like face, he found himself looking at a youth of no more than fourteen, blond-haired, blue-eyed, and smiling. The smile widened at Troy’s expression.

“Not quite what you expected, Captain? I have been many things since last you saw me.”

“And what are you now?” Troy asked. Xaviar laughed.

“Don’t you understand, Troy? I’m the Pied Piper.”

“What?” Troy frowned, then shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. You wanted to negotiate, and here I am.”

“Yes,” Xaviar said. “Here are my terms. You, Lieutenant Dillon, and Miss Jamie Hamilton, in exchange for the children.”

Troy raised his eyebrows. “If we hand ourselves over to you, you’ll take us and kill the children.”

“You have such a low opinion of me,” Xaviar opined. “Believe me, Captain, I never wanted to harm the children. The only ones I want to harm are you and your friends. The survival of our people has always been my goal.”

“Pell and Reta will go free?”

“I don’t care about them. They can go.”

Troy gritted his teeth. _What is the right thing to do here?_

Outside, Pell had still not managed to break through the airlock. The shuttle’s position left it out of range of Xaviar’s guns, but that could change if Xaviar decided to turn his more maneuverable ship. In their Vipers, just beyond firing range, Dillon and Reta watched in consternation.

Finally, Reta made her decision. “I’m going in,” she announced.

Dillon looked sharply across at her. “Sergeant, if you go any closer he’ll shoot you down.”

“I can shoot back,” Reta said grimly. Engaging her turbos, she accelerated straight toward Xaviar’s ship.

“Reta, get back here!” Dillon shouted. “That’s an order!” She didn’t even acknowledge the command.

“What is she doing?” Xaviar asked, turning to his scanner then looking back at Troy. Troy shrugged, feigning indifference.

“I don’t know.”

Growling, Xaviar fired a volley at Reta’s Viper. She swerved, but one of the shots clipped her starboard engine and another hit the rear of the cockpit, making a crack in the glass that began to spiderweb out. She fired back, and Xaviar’s ship rocked with the impact, sparks flying from the console. Xaviar cursed.

“My weaponry is more powerful than hers. What is she _doing_?”

In a few more seconds, Reta had reached the shuttle. “Out of the way!” she yelled to Pell. He backed up quickly, and Reta fired on the airlock door. Her more powerful guns made quick work of the port, and the shuttle pulled up to the hole, deploying docking clamps to hold it in place.

Pell and Jamie rushed through the gap and forced their way through the inner hatch. Inside, around twenty children were huddled together. Some cried, some screamed, and some sat in petrified silence. Starla jumped to her feet when she saw the newcomers.

“Daddy! Miss Jamie! What’s happening?”

“There’s no time, sweetie,” said Pell. “We have to get all of you off the ship. Come on, let’s go!” Raising his voice, he began gathering up children and urging them through the airlock and into the shuttle. Jamie followed suit, picking up the ones who were two scared to move and herding the rest as best she could. Soon, almost all of them were through. While Jamie tried to calm down the children on the shuttle, Pell stopped to make sure everyone was through.

Outside, Reta hovered uncertainly. The crack in her cockpit had stopped growing, but she was leaking oxygen fast. She knew she couldn’t make it back to where Dillon was waiting, especially with one engine down, and she couldn’t get inside the shuttle to help Pell and Jamie.

Xaviar screamed with rage, his youthful face contorting. “ _No_!” he yelled, punching his console as he watched his carefully devised plan fall to pieces before his eyes.

“You’ve lost, Xaviar,” Troy said. “Time to give up.”

“Never.” Xaviar turned to look at him, and his eyes were desperate. “I’m taking you with me.”

Troy saw Xaviar’s hand reach for a button, and his heart stopped. He grabbed Xaviar’s arms and grappled with him, trying to keep him from pressing that button. He had to let go with one hand to jam his helmet back onto his head, and Xaviar’s fingers strained just centimeters from the button.

“Dillon!” Troy gasped, again using both hands to force Xaviar back. “He’s going to self-destruct!”

“Frack!” swore Dillon. “Hang on, I’m coming.” Firing his turbos, he swooped in toward Xaviar’s ship, putting on his own space-sealed helmet as he did.

In the ship’s hold, Pell spotted a small figure huddled in a corner and raced to pick up the child. He barely registered that it was his own son, Lip, as he turned back to the door. He had heard what Troy had said, and knew they had seconds at most before Xaviar destroyed the whole ship. As he approached the door, a bulkhead shuddered and toppled toward him. Desperately, Pell threw Lip bodily onto the shuttle, then collapsed under the bulkhead.

“Go, Jamie!” he gasped, barely able to draw breath. “Get out of here!”

Jamie stared at him, frozen. “I can’t —”

“ _Go!_ ” Pell said again.

She stood stock-still for a split second longer, then nodded. She closed the shuttle’s hatch and broke the docking seal, then hurried to the console.

“Okay, I hope you know how to fly this thing,” she muttered to herself. There wasn’t time to run through everything she had seen Pell do on the way here. She jabbed a button and felt the shuttle accelerate backwards, toward the surface of Mars.

A few seconds earlier, Dillon had reached Xaviar’s cockpit and opened his own. He drew his laser and shot, so that Xaviar’s cockpit snapped open, depressurizing instantly. Xaviar wasn’t wearing his helmet, and screamed as the vacuum of space rushed in to claim him. Dillon seized Troy’s wrist and pulled him clear.

As he died, Xaviar finally reached the self-destruct button, and his ship exploded into a wall of fire. Dillon held tight to Troy’s wrist, and Troy clambered into the cockpit behind him as they barely managed to clear the blast.

Reta had tried to follow the shuttle out of harm’s way. Unbeknownst to her, her high engine had also been struck a glancing blow as she’d rushed to help Pell, and now it sputtered and died. With just one engine running, she could only fly in circles. She hailed the others.

“I’m out of oxygen,” she panted. “My engines are dead. I can’t  —”

The ship exploded. Dillon’s Viper and the shuttle were thrown back, unharmed. The explosion flared for several seconds, then died, leaving only scattered debris and ash in its wake.

Jamie stared in shock, unable to think or breathe. Dillon’s voice came through her helmet.

“Did you get the kids?”

Jamie forced herself to inhale, then exhale. “I — I got them. They’re all safe.”

“Is Pell with you?” asked Troy.

“He —” Jamie could barely manage to say the words. “He was trapped. I couldn’t go — I couldn’t —” She covered her mouth with one hand, shaking uncontrollably. “And Reta —”

“I know.” Troy’s voice was heavy. No one spoke for a long moment, then Troy said, “Jamie, you’re going to have to pilot that shuttle back to Earth. Can you do that?”

“I —” Jamie scrubbed her face with a sleeve and stared at the controls. “I don’t know —”

“The button you used before was the reverse thruster,” said Dillon. “The one next to it is forward. Use the joystick to steer, and that red slider controls your speed. Just follow us in, you’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” said Jamie. “Okay. I’ll — I can do this. I can do this.” She took a deep breath and steadied herself. “I can do this.”

The two ships returned to Earth in silence, apart from the hiccuping sobs of the children.


	5. Buttercup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which things are bad but maybe getting better, and love arises. CW more homophobia, grief/loss.

_Take me to the place where I feel no shame_

_Take me where courage doesn’t need a name_

_Learning how to cry is the hardest part —_

_There’s only one way to mend a broken heart._

— “Beautiful Dawn,” The Wailin’ Jennys

 

Dillon landed in the open area outside the _Galactica_ , his Viper only visible as a flattened area in the grass. A larger region was tamped down nearby as Jamie brought the shuttle to earth, and the occupants of both ships started to climb down.

Boomer was first out of the _Galactica_. He sprinted toward the place where Dillon, Troy, Jamie, and a long column of children seemed to be appearing out of thin air. Adama saw him dart by and got up to follow, beckoning to the warriors who sat around the table with him. Next came the maintenance workers and security guards, not knowing what was going on but realizing it must be important. Doctor Zee brought up the rear at a measured pace, hands held behind his back.

As Boomer approached the ships, Troy ran forward to meet him. “What happened?” Boomer panted, looking around. “Where are —”

“Pell and Reta are dead,” Troy replied without inflection. “So is Xaviar. The children are all safe.”

Boomer’s eyes widened at the news of Reta’s and Pell’s deaths, but he knew full explanations would have to wait. “Adama called in every warrior who could make it in time,” he explained, gesturing to the approaching group. “Some flew in from as far as Vancouver. We located Lieutenants Nash and Eril this morning; they’d been jailed for burglary. A frame job of Xaviar’s.”

Troy nodded. “That makes sense. Easy way to get them out of the way while he toyed with us. Has anyone else been hurt?”

“No.” Boomer straightened and turned around as Adama caught up with him. The Commander looked livid as he took in the scene.

“What is going on here?” he demanded. Troy faced him calmly.

“We’ve brought back the children,” he replied. “Xaviar is dead.”

“But how —” Adama glanced around at the people around him. “I sent Sergeant Reta to face Xaviar. Where is she?”

“She died rescuing the children,” Troy said. “As did her husband, Pell.” Some of the assembled warriors and workers gasped or cried out at the news. Most of them had known the couple. Adama’s expression darkened.

“You broke into the _Galactica_ , stole a pair of Vipers, and got one of my warriors killed. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Commander.” It was Jamie who responded, stepping forward and taking off her helmet. “If Troy and Dillon hadn’t gone, the children would all be dead.”

Adama frowned at her. “Miss Hamilton, what are you doing here?”

“I went with Pell to help shuttle the children,” Jamie explained, holding Adama’s gaze. “I might add that I’m the one who piloted the shuttle back to Earth, so you might want to rethink your attitude.” A number of warriors raised their eyebrows — none of them would have dared to speak so disrespectfully to their Commander. Seeing that her point had been made, Jamie continued. “Xaviar gave them an ultimatum. If they hadn’t gone to meet him, he would have started killing the children. And he had upgraded his weapons. Reta never would have been able to take him on alone, at least not without hurting the children. If Troy and Dillon hadn’t gone, nobody would have made it out alive.”

Adama looked at her for a long moment, then sighed and turned back to Troy. “Very well. Tell me what happened.”

Troy recounted the mission as completely as he could without implicating Boomer. Rather than reveal that he had heard Xaviar’s initial, threatening message, he made it sound as if he and Dillon had checked under Starla’s bed just to assuage the child’s fears, and had been surprised to find the small speaker hidden there. He also avoided mentioning that Boomer had downloaded Xaviar’s coordinates to the Vipers.

When Troy told of his conversation with Xaviar in the minutes before the former Councilmember destroyed his ship, he mentioned what Xaviar had said about being something called the Pied Piper. Many brows furrowed at this news, but Jamie’s eyes widened.

“Of course,” she breathed. Everyone turned to look at her.

“It’s an old story,” she explained. “It’s about a piper — a musician — who uses the music from his magic pipe to lead away the children of a village in order to exact revenge on the villagers. Xaviar must have used the story as inspiration.”

Troy turned to look at the crowd of children. “Did he speak to all of you? A blond boy, did he give you a small device to hide under your beds?”

Most of the children nodded. The only ones who didn’t were very small, like Lip.

“He said I should bring my little sisters and come to him,” said one boy of about ten. “He scared me,” he added.

“He wasn’t scary!” shot back another boy. “He was really nice. He would sing to me and listen to me and tell me I would grow up to be a great hero.” The boy looked proud.

“But if I wasn’t in bed on time, he’d be very angry,” said Starla. “He was nice sometimes, but he was also very mean.”

“Only if you did something wrong,” argued the second boy. “You should have listened to what he told you, then he wouldn’t have been mean.”

Troubled, Troy gave Jamie a glance, and she did her best to quiet the children. Troy turned back to Adama.

“You see? He used his influence over the children to lure them away, just like the Pied Piper. And then he used the children to manipulate us. We had to go.”

Adama stared at him, inscrutable. “You haven’t finished your report.”

“Right.” Troy continued, telling how he’d held Xaviar back from the self-destruct button just long enough for the shuttle to pull clear, how Reta had been unable to escape, how Dillon had barely managed to save him. Jamie joined in to explain why she’d been forced to leave Pell behind in order to get the children out of harm’s way. When they were finished, everyone stood stock-still.

“You bring grave news,” Adama said at last. “And yet, I am glad to know that Xaviar will trouble us no longer. We must hold funeral rites for our fallen comrades,” he continued, raising his voice so that all could hear. “And, of course, we must decide what to do with their children.”

“If I may, sir.” Boomer stepped forward, holding a recording device. “Sergeant Reta left this with me before she left. She said we should listen to it in the event that she and her husband did not return.”

Adama looked puzzled, but nodded. Boomer pressed a button, and Reta’s voice rang out over the field.

“ _This is Sergeant Reta_ ,” it said. “ _My husband, Pell, and I are about to attempt a dangerous rescue mission. It is possible that we will not survive. If both of us should die and one or both of our children survive, I leave this as my will, with Pell’s full knowledge and consent to this decision._

“ _We have no material wealth that matters to us_ ,” the message continued. “ _Do what you will with our possessions. The only thing that matters is our children._ ” There was a pause as Reta took a deep breath. “ _If any of them still live, we ask that our children be given into the care of Troy, Dillon, and Jamie Hamilton. We have known them only a short time, but they are already our dearest friends, and we would trust them over all others to raise our children with the same love and care that we have given them._

“ _Commander Adama, I know you may hesitate to agree to this request, and I know why. I beg you not to be blinkered by prejudice that comes from a world long since destroyed. Troy, Dillon, and Jamie are among the best people I have ever had the honor to meet. Please believe, as I do, that they will do everything in their power to make sure my children grow up happy, and safe, and loved. They do not deserve your censure, Commander. They never have._ ”

The message ended. Everyone looked at the speaker in Boomer’s hand, as if waiting for more. After a long minute, Adama spoke.

“No.” He shook his head. “No, I cannot allow this.”

The warriors murmured among themselves. None of them knew why Troy and Dillon had been stripped of their ranks, but it was clear to them that Reta and Pell had trusted the pair, and they couldn’t see why Adama should continue to resist.

“Sir,” began Boomer, “surely —”

“No,” repeated Adama, raising a hand. “The children must be given a good home. They cannot have one with such —” he stopped himself. “They cannot have one with Troy and Dillon,” he finished. The murmuring rose in volume.

Lieutenant Nash stepped forward. He was limping. “Commander, why don’t we ask the children what they want?”

“Good idea,” said Boomer. “Where are Reta and Pell’s children?” When Starla stepped forward, leading Lip by the hand, he crouched down and asked gently, “Can you tell us who you’d like to live with?”

Her face stained with tears, Starla said firmly, “I want to go with Captain Troy and Lieutenant Dillon and Miss Jamie, please.”

“And what about you?” Boomer turned to Lip, who was quivering from head to toe. Slowly, the small boy raised an arm and pointed to Troy. Boomer smiled slightly. “You want to go with Troy and Dillon and Jamie?”

Lip nodded. Boomer straightened up and looked at Adama. “The vote appears to be unanimous.”

“Not quite.” Adama’s lip curled. “My vote still counts for something, and I say I cannot allow this. It is wrong! It is a blasphemy!”

“Why, sir?” It was Lieutenant Eril, a woman Troy had barely known on the _Galactica_. She stepped forward to stand beside Nash. “What is so wrong about sending children to a home where they will be loved?” The other warriors, along with the security and maintenance workers, nodded their support of the question.

Adama didn’t answer, and Boomer steadied himself with a breath. He had known this time would come, ever since he had first called Troy on a secure channel. Really, he thought, he had known it ever since he accepted the promotion to Colonel. _Day of reckoning_ , he thought. _All I have to do is say what I’ve wanted to say for thirty years_. He met Troy’s eyes, then Dillon’s, silently asking their permission. Both of them nodded slowly.

“I can tell you why Adama doesn’t want to send the children home with Troy and Dillon,” he said aloud, turning to the watching crowd. They turned their collective gaze to him, and he felt their eyes bore into him. “It is a simple reason, and a foolish one. He does this for the sole reason that he knows Captain Troy and Lieutenant Dillon to be lovers.”

Whispering broke out once more. Adama turned on Boomer, eyes flashing. “How dare you? You would set yourself against me in this matter? _Why_?”

Boomer met his gaze levelly. “Why?” He spoke so that everyone could hear him. “Because this has gone on too long, Adama. Because you broke your son’s heart when you told him he was an unnatural aberration, abhorred by the gods, simply for loving whom he loved. Because you never forgave Starbuck for, in your words, ‘corrupting’ Apollo. Because now you have turned your back on your only grandson rather than let go of this old prejudice. And,” he went on, forcing the words out, “because I have lived too long pretending to be other than what I am, because I feared what you would do if you knew that I, too, loved Apollo.”

The meadow stood for a moment in a stunned silence. A pair of vultures circled far overhead. Slowly, his eyes never leaving Adama’s face, Boomer walked to stand beside Troy and Dillon.

Lieutenant Nash turned his gaze to Adama. “Is this true?” he asked.

Adama didn’t answer. Nash, nodding slowly, followed Boomer to stand facing Adama. Eril followed a few second behind him.

Doctor Zee approached Adama and looked at him with that calm, authoritative gaze that was so incongruous with his youthful stature and appearance. "Commander," he said. "You have much to learn." And he moved to stand near Boomer.

Within minutes, nearly everyone had come to stand around Troy and Dillon, facing Adama wordlessly. Only a few people remained behind Adama, looking uncomfortable. Adama glanced behind him, then back at the silent crowd that faced him. He sighed. Commander he might be, but he knew the position was worthless if those he commanded turned against him like this.

“Very well,” he said at last. “It appears I have been outvoted.”

 

***

 

Jamie, Troy, Dillon, Starla, and Lip all piled into the truck and drove to Reta and Pell’s house. The children went inside and, silently, packed up some of their belongings. Troy waited outside, leaning against a telephone pole and staring up at the sky. _This shouldn’t have happened_ , he thought. _If we’d been able to get to our Vipers last night —_

“Excuse me.” Troy opened his eyes to see a middle-aged woman with close-cropped brown hair standing in front of him. “Can you tell me what’s going on?” she asked. “I know you’re a friend of Reta and Pell, I’ve seen you around. We saw her leave this morning, looking frantic, then that friend of yours” — she pointed at Jamie, who was sitting on the porch steps with her head in her hand — “showed up and drove away with Pell. Now you three come back with the children, and you all look like hell. What happened?”

Troy looked hollowly at the stranger. “There was an…an accident,” he said at last. “Reta and Pell are dead.”

“Oh, dear God.” The woman clapped both hands to her mouth. “You’re serious?”

“I wouldn’t joke about it.”

“No, no, of course not.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “Those poor children. I can’t imagine. Where are they going to stay?”

“They’re going to come and live with the three of us,” Troy told her. “It’s what their parents wanted.”

“Good. Good.” The woman nodded. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am. We didn’t know Reta and Pell very well, but they were lovely neighbors. Well,” she continued, “I don’t know if there’s anything we can do to help, but if you ever need anything, call this number, okay?” She pulled a pen and a receipt from her pocket and wrote a phone number on the back of the receipt. “My name’s Ellen. My wife Val and I will do whatever we can to make sure those kids get a good life.” She pressed the paper into Troy’s hand and started to turn away, then stopped. “I’m sorry, I never got your names.”

“I’m Troy. That’s Jamie there, and that’s Dillon.” He paused, then added, “My boyfriend.”

A small smile crossed Ellen’s face. “Nice to meet you, Troy,” she said. “I only wish it was under better circumstances.”

 

***

 

Back at their own house, Troy, Dillon, and Jamie set about transforming Dillon’s room into a room for the children. Dillon had barely used it in months, since he had taken to spending nights in Troy’s bed, so it was the obvious choice. They had brought the children’s mattresses and bedding in the back of the truck, and now set up beds for them on the floor. “We’ll go get you real beds soon,” Troy promised. “I’m sorry we’re not set up better.”

Neither child responded. They had been silent since they left the _Galactica_. Lip sat on his mattress and stared at the floor. Starla stood uncertainly between the two beds.

“When are Mama and Daddy going to be here?” Lip spoke so softly Troy barely heard him. He knelt in front of the child and felt his throat close up. Unable to speak, he put a hand on the boy’s head and slowly stroked his hair.

Starla came and sat beside her brother, looking seriously at Troy. “They’re never coming back, are they?”

Troy met her gaze, and knew she understood what had happened. He remembered when his own mother had died, when he was younger even than Starla was now. The uncomprehending horror of that moment had never really left him. He nodded mutely, and Starla curled forward, her small hands making fists.

“I knew it,” she whispered, closing her eyes. Tears leaked out from behind her eyelids and she began to rock back and forth.

Wordlessly, Troy pulled both children to him, one under each arm. He held them tightly, and whispered, “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” He cried freely for the first time since the horror had begun, two weeks ago. The children hiccuped and sobbed in his embrace.

Dillon and Jamie found them like that, Troy kneeling on the floor and clutching the children like lifelines. Quietly, they both sat on the bed and lent their arms and tears to the messy, weeping hug. None of them moved for quite some time.

Finally, Troy found he couldn’t cry anymore, and he leaned back, drained. Lip had fallen asleep leaning against Troy’s chest, and Troy gently settled the boy back onto the bed. Lip’s face was streaked with dried tears, and his eyes were squeezed tight as if to shut out everything that had happened that day. Troy wished he, too, could shut it out and go to sleep.

He kissed Starla’s forehead and she watched him through swollen red eyes. “I’m going to make some food,” he said quietly, looking around at Dillon and Jamie. They nodded.

The sun was hanging low in the sky, bathing the street outside in a golden glow. Troy looked at it for a few moments through the kitchen window, feeling wholly unreal. _This should not have happened_ , he thought again. _This is not how the world should be right now_.

He made soup. It seemed like the best thing. The recipe he used was one Jamie had introduced him to back in the first year he’d been on Earth, and it had become a staple in their household ever since the three of them had been living together. While Iris whined up at him for attention or scraps, Troy immersed himself in chopping onions, slicing mushrooms, sautéing herbs, bringing the rich beef broth to a simmer. He found the motions grounding, felt a little more human. He dropped a few handfuls of barley into the pot and covered the soup, then sat on the couch to wait.

Dillon emerged from the kids’ bedroom, holding Starla’s hand. In her other arm the girl held the book they had given her and her brother, _Miss Rumphius_.

“She wants you to read to her,” Dillon explained. Troy gave Starla a small smile.

“Come on up here, then.”

When she was settled on his lap, Troy opened the book and began to read. As he did, his mind wandered repeatedly back to Pell and Reta — their strength, their courage, their humor, their love. _They made the world a more beautiful place just by being in it_.

When the book was over, Troy gazed at the final page for several minutes without really seeing it. He kept reliving the moment of the explosion, the gut-hollowing knowledge that Reta could not have made it out, then Jamie’s confirmation that Pell had been lost, as well.

Iris, feeling left out, approached the couch and stuck her wet nose in the crook of Starla’s elbow. Starla yelped and drew away, then ran out the back door and into the yard, where she stood and hurled rocks at the fence, yelling. Troy started up after her, but Dillon put a hand on his arm.

“Give her some time,” he suggested. “Sometimes throwing things helps.”

Troy sank back onto the cushions and leaned into Dillon’s chest, closing his eyes. Dillon held him quietly, stroking his hair.

“I feel responsible,” Troy mumbled after a few minutes. Dillon’s hand paused momentarily, then continued its rhythmic petting of Troy’s head.

“I know,” said Dillon. “Try not to. It’s really not your fault at all. It’s all on Xaviar.”

“Is it?” Troy sat back a little so he could look Dillon in the face. “I was in command. If I’d come up with a better plan, if I’d been able to hold Xaviar off for longer, if I’d gone in to break the airlock myself —”

“Shh.” Dillon’s hand shifted to Troy’s neck. “You did the best you could. It’s not your fault Xaviar did what he did, and it’s not your fault Pell and Reta were in danger. They went because their kids were in trouble. They knew the risks.”

Troy sighed. “It’s more than that, though. We could have stopped Xaviar before he ever got the children, if we’d had access to our Vipers.”

“That’s not your fault, either,” pointed out Dillon. “That part was Adama.”

“But —” Troy stared at a loose thread on Dillon’s collar, trying to articulate his guilt. “The only reason Adama kicked us out of the fleet was because he saw me kiss you. If I hadn’t — if I’d just had the sense to keep my _damn_ hands to myself —”

Dillon exhaled slowly and pulled Troy closer. “Please don’t blame yourself for that, of all things,” he said into Troy’s hair. “Please don’t try to make what we have into something bad. This is not why Pell and Reta died. It’s just not.”

Troy took a shaky breath. “I know. I know. I’m sorry.”

A timer beeped, and Dillon sniffed the air. “Hey. Soup’s ready.”

 

***

 

It was amazing, Dillon thought, how two such small people could make such an enormous change in a household. He was now in charge of taking the kids to school, since he didn’t have any early shifts during the week. On days when he worked the late shift — Tuesdays and Fridays — he would pick them up from school, too. On the other days, all the adults were busy at three in the afternoon, and the children had to stay at an after-school program until Troy got home from his own school and could go get them. When they weren’t working or sleeping, all three of them were constantly busy making school lunches, helping with Starla’s homework, listening to her talk about her day, wheedling both children to take a bath or brush their teeth.

Despite his exhaustion, Dillon found himself feeling grateful for the demands the children made on their time. It kept him clear-headed, not giving his thoughts time to swirl and muddy. It also kept Troy from brooding too much, and as time went on, Dillon began to believe that they would all be okay in the end.

One warm, clear evening, Jamie suggested a picnic dinner in the park. Everyone agreed, and they packed the picnic basket with an odd assortment of snacks, beverages, and a few items that might count as an actual meal, then piled into Jamie’s car. Iris stood between the two front seats, her tail brushing Starla’s knees as it wagged back and forth.

Jamie pulled into the parking lot and they set up their dinner in an open area of grass, where the lowering sun still shone. When Lip had eaten two-thirds of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, plus nine strawberries, he declared he was done and ran to play fetch with Iris and her ever-present tennis ball. Troy smiled, glad that Lip seemed to be starting to come out of his shell a little.

Starla sat with the adults, watching the two figures. “He doesn’t understand,” she said. Troy looked at her quickly.

“He’s very young,” he reminded her. She turned toward him, and he continued, “My mother died when I was not much older than Lip is now. It’s not easy to understand death at that age.”

Starla turned her gaze back to her little brother, who was trying to persuade Iris to drop the ball so he could throw it again. “What do I do?” she asked quietly.

Troy studied her. It was good, he thought, that she and Lip had each other. “Just be there,” he said at last. “Play with him, listen to him, look out for him. Be the best big sister you can be. He’ll be okay.”

Starla looked at her knees for a moment, then nodded and got to her feet. As she ran off to join the game, Troy took a sip of his iced tea and exhaled slowly. Jamie moved across to sit between him and Dillon, slinging an arm around each of their necks.

“You know,” she said, leaning her head on Troy’s shoulder, “I think we’re doing all right as parents.”

Troy rested his cheek on the top of her head. “I hope so.”

Watching them, Dillon felt a stirring of some emotion. Not jealousy — he could never resent Troy’s close relationship with Jamie, just as he knew Troy wasn’t troubled by his own closeness with her. In fact, he thought, what he felt seemed like the opposite of jealousy. _Whatever the opposite of jealousy is_. Pondering that, he put his arm around Jamie’s shoulders and said nothing until the sun had set and the children had to be taken home to bed.

 

***

 

Two nights later, Troy and Dillon went back to Hamburger Mary’s, leaving the children with Jamie. She insisted that it was fine, that the two of them deserved to get out and have some fun, adding, “Just don’t take it for granted that I’ll always stay home and watch the kids. I like to go out sometimes too, you know.”

The two of them walked into the bar and looked around. Their usual table was occupied by strangers, but Dillon spotted Mel sitting by himself at the bar. As they approached, she turned around and greeted them.

“It’s been a while since I saw you two,” Mel said. “If Nessie had known you were coming, she would’ve been here. She was getting worried.”

Troy sighed as he took a seat next to Mel and ordered drinks for himself and Dillon. “We’ve…we’ve had a lot going on,” he explained.

Mel looked questioningly between them, but didn’t ask. Dillon exchanged a look with Troy, then said heavily, “Some friends of ours died recently. And —”

“And my grandfather disowned me,” Troy finished, accepting his drink from the bartender and running a finger around the rim of the glass. “He was the only family I had left.”

Mel looked pale and sad in the dim lighting of the bar as he absorbed the information. “I’m so sorry about your friends,” he said softly. Laying a cool hand on top of Troy’s, she added, “A lot of us have learned that the family you choose is at least as important as the one you’re born into. You do have family, Troy.”

Mel’s words seemed to ease Troy a little, but the evening was nevertheless a subdued one. The three of them talked quietly for a long time about everything — their childhoods, their least favorite movies, the political situation in the US. Dillon had never spoken very much to Mel, who tended to stay quiet, and found himself appreciating her company more and more as the evening went on.

Eventually, the conversation faltered. Troy toyed with his glass for a few seconds, then said, “I’m going to go for a walk.”

Dillon looked up and touched Troy’s wrist. He was tempted to ask if Troy was all right, but told himself not to push it. “Okay.”

“I’ll be back in a little while.” Troy gave Dillon a quick kiss. “Don’t miss me too much.”

Dillon watched Troy leave, then turned back to Mel, who was smiling at him.

“You two are lucky,” she told him.

Dillon returned the smile. “Yeah.” He looked down at the bar for a moment. “Mel, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

He raised his eyes to meet Mel’s gaze. _Here goes nothing_. “Is it…is it possible to be in love with two people at the same time?”

Mel looked at him closely, and Dillon dropped his gaze, feeling that he had said something very wrong.

At last, Mel asked, “What do you think, Dillon?”

He frowned. “I…I’m not sure. What I feel — I don’t know what it means.”

“Does it have to mean anything?” When Dillon didn’t answer, Mel went on, “I’ve tried being in open relationships. It didn’t work for me — I get jealous too easily. But Hector has two boyfriends, and they’re all perfectly happy with the arrangement. He’s been seeing one of them for just over a year, and the other for nearly three. The two of them are good friends.”

Dillon looked up again, surprised. “Really? That’s acceptable here?”

Mel gave a short laugh. “‘Acceptable’ is relative. Most people you meet on the street wouldn’t find it acceptable at all, but that’s nothing new to you. In a place like this, people wouldn’t bother you about it.”

“Huh.” Dillon couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Since Nessie isn’t here,” Mel continued after a while, “I’ll tell you what she always says.” He paused, then said as if reciting a poem, “‘Once you let go of the pointless rules invented by straight white men to control everybody else, there are only three fundamental rules for a relationship. The first rule is honesty, the second is trust, and the third is a profound respect for your partner’s humanity. Beyond that, everything else is up to you and your partners. It’s free love, baby!’” Mel raised his glass with the last line, then set it down with a slightly sheepish smile.

“At least,” Mel added, “that’s what she told me when I was coming out. I wrote it all down and later burned it into a wooden panel to give to my first girlfriend. She gave it back when we broke up, and now I keep it in my kitchen.”

Dillon smiled, his mind whirling. “It’s a good speech. Thanks, Mel, you’ve given me a lot to think about.” He drained his glass and set it down. “I think I’ll go find Troy.”

“Good luck.”

 

***

 

They lay in bed that night, listening to the sounds of the city. Dillon was lying on his back, thinking over what Mel had told him, running over the words again and again. Images seemed to shine on the dimly lit ceiling, memories and fantasies blurring together.

Troy lifted his head off the pillow and put a hand on Dillon’s chest. “What are you thinking about?” he asked.

Dillon glanced at him and swallowed. “I’m —” _You have to say it sometime_ , he told himself. _The first rule is honesty_. “Troy, I have to tell you something. But I want you to know before I do that it doesn’t have to change anything between us. I love you, and I love being with you, and I couldn’t bear to damage what we have. But I have to tell you. Okay?”

It took Troy a few seconds to answer. “Okay,” he said at last. “Whatever it is, I’m listening.”

 _The second is trust_. Dillon mustered his courage. “I think —” he began. _Spit it out, mister_. “I think I might be in love with Jamie.”

Troy sat up abruptly, pulling the covers with him. Normally, Dillon would have complained about the sudden draft, but now he just watched Troy, hoping he hadn’t just ruined everything.

“You are?” Troy asked. Dillon couldn’t read his tone.

“I’m sorry,” he said hastily. “I didn’t mean — Troy, please —”

“Dillon,” Troy interrupted, and turned toward him. Dillon could just make out the quizzical half-smile on his face. “Dillon, I’m not upset. I’m in love with Jamie, too.”

Dillon was speechless for a moment. “You — what? Since when?” he managed.

“I’m not sure, exactly,” Troy answered. “The thought first crossed my mind when Hector mentioned his two boyfriends about a month ago. But so much has been going on, I didn’t have time to think about it for a while. And I didn’t want to push it. I wasn’t totally sure until you said it just now.”

“Huh.” Dillon lay back, and Troy followed suit, pulling the blanket back up.

“So what do we do now?” Troy asked.

“I think,” said Dillon, “we have to ask her out. And if she’s not interested, we still have the best friend anyone could ask for.” _The third is a profound respect for your partner’s humanity_.

“Sounds like a plan,” Troy agreed, then yawned. “Let’s ask her tomorrow.”

 

***

 

Due to their conflicting work schedules, it was two days before they could talk to Jamie alone. They waited until the children were in bed, then, as the three adults relaxed on the couch, Dillon cast Troy a meaningful look. Troy met it, and nodded.

“Jamie,” Dillon began, “we have something we’d like to ask you.”

Jamie looked up from her crocheting. She had gotten farther than she’d ever managed before, and was feeling confident. “Yes? What is it?”

Troy glanced over at Dillon again, then said, “We were wondering if you’d like to go out with us. On a date.”

Jamie stared at him, bewildered but somehow pleased. “What — all three of us?”

“Yes,” Troy confirmed.

“Like a couple,” Dillon continued, “but with three people. A three-couple. A throuple, if you will.”

Jamie was silent for a few more seconds, then a broad smile covered her face. “Oh, I would _love_ to go out with both of you!” she exclaimed. “But we’re not calling ourselves a throuple.”

Both men grinned back at her, then at each other.

“Well, that went well,” said Dillon.

“Yes,” Troy agreed. “I wasn’t sure it would.”

“Oh, come on.” Jamie smiled fondly at both of them. “You couldn’t possibly have thought I’d refuse. You know I adore you both.”

“Well, it is a rather…unorthodox arrangement,” Troy pointed out..

Jamie laughed. “I’ve sort of gotten used to _unorthodox_ since I met the two of you.”

“That’s fair,” Dillon said, then crossed his arms. “And here I thought ‘throuple’ was rather clever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no insult to people who use "throuple," i personally think it's kinda fun. Jamie's opinion is her own.


	6. Daisy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Troy is the serious dad who helps you with taxes and talks about your feelings, Dillon is the fun dad who buys you ice cream and takes you on roller coasters, and Jamie is still the only real adult. healing and family and grieving and sunshine.

_Going where the hills are green_

_And the cars are few and far_

_Days are full of splendor_

_And at night you can see the stars_

_Life’s been moving oh so fast_

_I think we should take it slow —_

_Rest our heads upon the grass_

_And listen to it grow._

— “Splendor in the Grass,” Pink Martini

 

The three of them had their first official date the night before Troy’s graduation from the fire academy. They hired a babysitter for the evening and dressed up for the occasion, Troy and Dilllon in suits and Jamie in a pretty green dress she’d bought on a whim and never had occasion to wear. Jamie’s car seemed like the nicer ride, but it only had space for two in the front, and it seemed unfair to leave one person in the backseat. So they piled into the front of the truck. It was somehow fitting, Troy thought — he had first kissed Dillon in this truck, and now the three of them were going on their first date in it. _Continuity_ , he thought.

Jamie had chosen the restaurant based on what she’d heard from colleagues. Troy parked in a garage two blocks away, feeling grateful to have found parking so close, and they walked arm in arm to the restaurant. Looking over at Dillon and Jamie as they walked, Troy felt his stomach perform a giddy twirl. _This is perfect. This is beautiful_.

Jamie, of course, was dazzling in her green dress, with a matching set of jewelry that seemed to make her eyes shine. And Dillon — Troy had never considered quite how stunning Dillon might look in a good suit. Troy took a deep breath of the warm evening air and felt himself smile. The joy in him was so great he thought he would burst.

“How did I get so lucky?” he asked, more to himself than anyone else. The other two exchanged a look, smiling.

“Weird twist of fate,” Dillon replied, straight-faced. “Fluke of destiny.”

“Oh, shut up,” said Jamie, contriving to kick Dillon in the shin as they walked. “Don’t spoil the moment.”

“I’m not spoiling it!” Dillon retorted, raising his free hand in a defensive gesture. “Just…lightening it. You know how dramatic he can get.”

“Dillon,” Jamie warned, and he subsided. She squeezed Troy’s arm. “We’re all lucky to have found each other,” she continued. “There’s no point in questioning how or why — just be grateful it happened.”

 

***

 

After Troy’s graduation the following day, the whole family — excluding Iris — went out for dinner. Dillon had managed to trade half a shift with a coworker in order to be free for most of the evening, and they lingered for a long time over their meal, laughing and teasing each other and occasionally lapsing into a more serious, though still joyful, mood. It was well after the children’s usual bedtime by the time they filed out to Jamie’s car. As they drove home, Troy leaned back and watched the sky whir past beyond the streetlights.

“I don’t know,” he said, continuing an earlier conversation. “What do you think I should do with my free time?” It would be another month before he could start working at the fire department, and Jamie had asked what he planned to do in his time off.

Dillon shrugged. “Write a novel? Join a soccer league?” Troy laughed.

An idea had been forming in the back of Jamie’s mind since she had asked the question. Now she saw it clearly, overlaid with a memory of another time spent with Troy, Dillon, and Starla, as well as eleven other children. There had been danger then, but there had also been something good.

“I think we should all go camping,” she declared. The others turned to her in surprise.

“You do?” asked Troy. She glanced over at him, then returned her eyes to the road.

“Yes, I do. It’ll be real fun. I’ve got some vacation time saved up, and the kids are out of school in another week. Dillon, do you think you could get a few days off?”

Dillon hesitated. “Probably. But I think I’m becoming known as the guy who’s always looking for time off.”

“Well, try, anyway. I’ll try to come up with a good place to go camping around here that isn’t bone-dry by this time of year.” She made a left turn, then said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go and make that decision without even checking if you two agreed. What do you think?”

“I think it’s a fantastic idea,” Troy said immediately. “It would be nice to get away from the city for a few days. Dillon?”

“The idea’s growing on me,” Dillon replied. “You’re right. It’ll be fun. As long as the kids want to go.”

“I wanna go!” piped up Starla. “Lip’s asleep, but he’ll want to, too. We love camping!”

Dillon grinned. “Guess that settles it, then.”

 

***

 

Two days later, funeral services were held aboard the _Galactica_ for Reta and Pell. Troy was half-surprised to be invited. All five of them dressed for mourning and climbed into Jamie’s car. The children were wide-eyed and silent as they drove to the edge of the city.

It was a beautiful service, Troy had to admit. The hills behind the _Galactica_ were full of flowers at this time of year, and someone had gathered countless colorful bouquets to line the hall. The place was packed with warriors and civilians, all wearing mourning colors and solemn expressions as they faced the two sarcophagi in the middle of the room. A priest had been summoned, one of the last who had grown up on Gemenon and studied the old texts. The sermon he gave was a standard one for military funerals, dealing with themes of self-sacrifice and service to a noble cause, but it reached Troy in a way it never had before as he looked at the faces of his dead friends’ children.

After the sermon, Adama gave a brief speech in recognition of the unfailing loyalty and courage of Pell and Reta. Next, those who had been close to the couple were invited to step forward and speak.

Nash went first. He had been Reta’s friend for many years, and spoke eloquently about her humor, her determination, her strong sense of morality and commitment to a higher goal. When he had finished, the hall stood silent for a few moments.

Troy walked forward. He hadn’t been sure he was going to do this, not in front of Adama and any others who might agree with him, but he felt he owed it to his friends to publicly acknowledge what they had meant to him. All eyes followed him as he approached the microphone and turned to face the crowd.

“Reta and Pell were among the best friends I’ve ever had,” he began. “I didn’t know them well when we were serving in the fleet — Reta and I were in different squadrons, and I never got to know most of the shuttle pilots.” He took a deep breath. “But they offered me friendship at a time when I sorely needed it, and in a short time I found myself relying on their strength and compassion. I’m not sure if they knew how much their friendship meant to me. I hope they did. I hope they do. I can think of no two people more deserving of a long and happy life. I can only pray that wherever they are, they have found peace.” Troy stood still for a moment longer, then nodded slightly and returned to his place in the crowd. Dillon touched his hand.

“I wanna say something.” It was Starla, letting go of Jamie’s hand and wiping tears off her face as she moved forward. People murmured and parted to let her through, and Troy watched in surprise. Boomer hurried to lower the microphone to Starla’s height. She looked very small, but stood tall as she looked out at the sea of faces. Then she turned and addressed the sarcophagi directly.

“Mama and Daddy, you’re the best people in the world,” she said clearly. “Me and Lip love you so much and we miss you every single day. We won’t ever forget you. But Troy and Dillon and Jamie are taking real good care of us. I’m about to be done with third grade, can you believe it? Then Lip’ll start first grade into the fall. You’re not going to be here for my birthday, but I know you’ll sing for me anyway. And Lip, when it’s his birthday. We’ll be okay,” she concluded. “You two can just concentrate on having fun in Paradise. I bet there’s always ice cream there.”

When everyone who wanted to had spoken, the crowd began to disperse. Troy looked around him, making sure Dillon, Jamie, Starla, and Lip were all present, and started to move toward the door.

“Troy.” He turned, surprised, to find Adama standing before him. “I realize you may not want to talk to me right now, but there are things I need to say to you. Would you be willing to walk with me for a moment?”

Troy looked over at Jamie, who was frowning at the Commander. She met his gaze. “Don’t go,” she whispered. “What could he have to say to you? It’ll only end up hurting you.”

Troy looked at her for a long moment. “I have to know,” he said at last. Turning back to his grandfather, he said, “Very well.”

They walked in silence until they were out of earshot of the gradually thinning crowd, then Adama spoke.

“It’s good to see you,” he said, leading Troy along a corridor. “How have you been?”

“I’m doing well,” Troy answered, unsure what Adama was trying to do. “I just graduated from the fire academy.”

“Really?” Adama looked up at him. “Well, I’m sorry I missed it. I am proud of you. And how is Dillon?”

At that, Troy crossed his arms and turned to face his grandfather. “May I ask what the point of this is?”

Adama sighed. “The point,” he replied, “is that I am a foolish old man.” He clasped his hands behind his back and strode on a few more paces. “I know that I hurt you, Troy, and I regret that deeply. You must believe that. It was never my wish to make you unhappy.”

Troy raised an eyebrow. “You picked a strange way to go about making me happy,” he said stiffly.

Adama straightened, looking ahead and not meeting Troy’s gaze. “I will not apologize for what I have done,” he declared. “The past cannot be changed, and I truly believed that I was doing what was right. For that, I will not apologize.”

Troy couldn’t help scoffing. “Doing what was right?” he repeated, layering the phrase with incredulity. “Right for whom? Who benefited from your actions?”

Adama finally looked at him. “I need you to understand, Troy, that I was following what I believed to be the teachings of the gods. Those teachings have guided our society for thousands of years, and I do not regret my actions in upholding them as I understood them. However,” he continued, “I do realize now that I was wrong. The ways of the gods are not always clear, and I was mistaken in my interpretation of them.”

“So —” Troy faced him. “What are you saying?”

“I am saying, my grandson, that I love you. I am saying that I am proud of who and what you have become, and that your…relationship with Lieutenant Dillon could not possibly change that. I am also saying,” he added, “that your rank and title are yours again, if you choose to take them. Dillon’s as well.”

Troy studied the face of his grandfather, his Commander, a man he had trusted and looked up to since he was six years old. He found he felt very little, and decided there was no point in hiding anything.

“How generous of you,” he said. “You should know, before you commit yourself to supporting my life of sin, that Dillon is not my only partner anymore. Both of us are also…courting…Jamie.”

“Oh.” Adama’s eyes widened at that news. “You test my limits, Troy. An old man’s mind can only take so much.” He rubbed his temples. “Nevertheless, my offer stands. And my love persists.”

“Very well.” Troy looked at him for a few more seconds. “I will consider your offer. And I thank you for your honesty, if for nothing else.” With that, he turned and strode away, straight-backed, without looking behind him.

A little while later, Jamie and Dillon listened as Troy told them what had happened. Both their faces shifted from hopeful, to concerned, to angry as the tale went on.

“You mean he didn’t even apologize?” Jamie asked when he had finished. “Everything he put you through, and he refused to even say he was sorry? Unbelievable.” She crossed her arms.

Dillon was of a similar mind. “You’re not going to forgive him, are you?” he asked. “Troy, you can’t just forget what he did to you. To both of us.”

“No,” Troy agreed. “But I can choose to move on from it. Now that I’ve talked to Adama, I’ve realized I no longer care what he thinks of me. Whether he’s proud of me or despises me, it makes no difference. He’s not my family anymore.” He looked between the two faces watching him, and loved them very much. “I chose this family over him a long time ago.”

They smiled warmly at him. “Are you going to take back your rank?” Jamie asked.

Troy shook his head. “I don’t want it anymore. Dillon, if you want —”

“Count me out,” Dillon said. “I’m a dad now, remember? I don’t have time for another job.”

 

***

 

A few nights later, Troy and Dillon were helping Starla build an ambitiously tall Lego tower in the living room. Troy tried to focus on the engineering challenge before him, but his mind kept drifting back to the certificate lying on his desk, verifying his graduation from the fire academy. The name on the piece of paper hung before his eyes: Troy Adams.

 _Adams_ , he thought with a trace of bitterness.  _Why did I have to name myself after my grandfather? Why couldn't I have picked something innocuous, like Dillon did? I could have been Troy Smith, Troy Peterson, Troy Carter, anything._   _But I had to go with Adams._

His reverie was broken when Jamie appeared out of her room and cleared her throat theatrically. The three builders looked up. Jamie's hands were clasped behind her back, obviously hiding something.

“What’s that?” Dillon asked, nodding at Jamie’s back. She grinned even wider and revealed the item with a flourish, spreading it out before her.

“I did it!” she announced, gesturing. In front of her lay a square, somewhat knobbly blanket in the colors of the rainbow flag. “I finally learned to crochet!”

"Hey, nice!" Dillon reached out and grabbed the blanket, then draped it over Troy’s shoulders and nodded critically. “It’s perfect. The cape of a true hero.”

Troy got to his feet and hugged Jamie, so that she was wrapped in the blanket too. “I love it,” he said in her ear. She squeezed his waist.

“I made somethin’, too,” came a small voice from near Troy’s feet. He looked over and saw Lip standing there, holding a piece of paper close to his body. Troy knelt in front of him.

“What did you make, Lip?”

Shyly, Lip showed him what was on the paper. It was a childish picture, and it took a moment for Troy to orient himself to it, but he soon recognized five humanoid figures — three tall, one of medium stature, and one quite small — and a brown-and-black shape with four legs. Comprehension dawned as he examined the five people, and he looked at Lip with something like awe.

“Is this…us?” he asked quietly. Lip nodded.

“Tha’s you, and tha’s Dil’n an’ Jamie an’ my sis’er Starla an’ me an’ Iris.” He pointed out each figure as he named them. “You said you wan’ed to see my paintings.”

“So I did,” Troy agreed. His heart felt close to bursting.

Dillon and Jamie came to look over Troy’s shoulders. “Let’s put it on the fridge,” Jamie suggested. As she went to hang the painting in a place of honor, Lip looked at Troy.

“D’you like it?” he asked, looking worried. Troy beamed and pulled Lip into a tight hug.

“It’s wonderful, Lip. Thank you.”

The phone rang in the kitchen, and Troy heard Jamie answer. “Oh, yes,” she said, “he’s right here. Dillon? It’s Boomer.”

As Dillon took the phone and started talking, Jamie returned to the living room. Troy looked curiously up at her. “What’s Boomer calling for?”

“Oh, did we forget to tell you?” Jamie was smiling. “While you were off with Adama, Boomer came to talk to us. Dillon managed to convince him that he shouldn’t give up on love just yet. He agreed to let you two take him to Hamburger Mary’s sometime.”

 

***

 

They went camping in a range of rolling hills near the coast. It was a long drive north from Los Angeles, and both children — as well as Iris — were asleep in the back of the car by the time they reached their destination. Jamie got out of the car and surveyed their campsite with her hands on her hips.

“It’s beautiful,” said Troy, coming up beside her and putting an arm around her waist. “Thank you.”

She leaned into him and closed her eyes. “Thank you for being here.”

“Are you two lovebirds going to help me set up the tent, or not?” came Dillon’s mock-irritable voice from behind them. They turned around, and Jamie smiled.

“Lovebird yourself,” she shot back, marching up to Dillon and kissing him.

He grinned. “You got me there.”

While the two of them set up the tent, Troy went to the trunk of the car and pulled out a camp stove and a cooler full of their food for the next two days. The children emerged, bleary-eyed, from the car and followed him.

“What’s for dinner?” Lip asked, rubbing his eyes.

Dillon appeared behind him. “I’d also like to know the answer to that question.”

“Let’s see.” Troy opened up the cooler and pretended to sort through the contents. “It looks like we have either tacos, or a nice rock salad. What do you think?”

“Tacos!” exclaimed the children in unison. Dillon laughed and crouched down in front of them.

“You sure you don’t want a rock salad?” he asked, poking Lip in the belly. “Troy makes a delicious rock salad, I can tell you. A bed of shale, a few slices of dolomite to spice it up. Throw in a handful of gravel for crunch and toss it with a light clay sludge, and you’re good to go!” He clapped his hands. “Very filling.”

Starla put her hands on her hips. “There’s no such thing as rock salad,” she said decisively. “You’re making it up.”

“Am I?” Dillon raised his eyebrows at her. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to see what we get for dinner, and then we’ll know if I’m really making it all up.” Getting to his feet and turning back to finish helping Jamie, he leaned close to Troy and whispered, “We’re not really having rock salad, are we? Gives me a bellyache.”

Troy almost snorted. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

 

***

 

The following morning, after a breakfast of blueberry pancakes and orange juice, they went for a walk. Iris seemed ecstatic to be in such a wide-open space and ran far ahead, nipping happily at butterflies. Her energy seemed to infect the children, who ran after her, laughing.

Occasionally, one of the adults would run out to join the fun, scooping up a child and swinging them around, or tossing a stick for Iris much farther than the children could throw. For the most part, though, they were content to follow at a walk, taking in the scenery and inhaling the clean air. Sometimes they glimpsed the ocean off to the west through a gap in the hills, and always they were surrounded by open vistas and a bright, fresh green that seemed to revive them from the inside out. They met a number of other hikers on their way, and stopped to exchange pleasantries with several. Everyone seemed cheerful and friendly.

They stopped for lunch at a meadow full of flowers. Dillon pulled out the bag of sandwiches they’d prepared at camp that morning and distributed them, and they all lounged on the grass to eat.

When they had finished, Jamie got to her feet with a groan and wandered around the meadow, looking at the flowers. After a few moments, she turned back to the group and called them over, saying, “Look! There’s a whole field of daisies here!”

Troy and Dillon joined her and looked at the flowers. “They’re very nice,” said Dillon, “but what’s so exciting about daisies? They’d be all over our yard back home if we didn’t mow it.”

“Daisy chains!” Jamie said, as if that explained everything. When everyone gave her blank looks, she rolled her eyes. “ _Galacticans_. Come on, I’ll show you.” Kneeling among the flowers, she began to pluck them and arrange them in front of her, then to string them together until she had a large loop.

“Here.” She beckoned to Dillon, who knelt next to her and examined her creation. She dropped the chain over his head so that it hung around his neck like a necklace. “Now you blend in properly.”

The children caught on quickly, and soon everyone was making daisy chains. Troy made a necklace for Starla, who made him a crown. Jamie made a necklace for Lip, and Dillon helped Lip make a crown for Jamie, measuring to make sure it fit her head. Before long, they were all wreathed in blossoms, with the sole exception of —

“Iris!” Starla exclaimed. “She needs to be a princess, too. Come on, Lip, let’s go find some more daisies.”

As the children ran off, Jamie sighed happily and lay back on the meadow, knocking her flower crown askew. Idly, she watched a puffy white cloud drift across the sky above her. The sun on her face made her sleepy, and she reached out for Troy’s and Dillon’s hands.

“C’mon,” she murmured, closing her eyes. “S’nice here. Lie down.”

She felt the warmth of two bodies settling beside her, and smiled. “I love you two.”

“I love you two, too,” Troy replied, a touch of amusement in his voice.

“I love you two, three,” said Dillon. Jamie laughed.

“I don’t know how we got here, exactly,” she said. “But I’m really glad we did.”

“Me, too.” Troy laced his fingers with Jamie’s, then reached across her to take Dillon’s free hand. “I think we got this right.”


End file.
